


Shadow Gate

by SomewhereFlying



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Niijima Makoto/Okumura Haru, Blindfolds, Blow Jobs, Canon-Typical Violence, Chatlogs, FutaGo Half-Siblings, Heavy Petting, Identity Porn, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Minor Persona 3 Spoilers, Mystery, No P5R spoilers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2020-10-19 03:54:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 97,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20650772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomewhereFlying/pseuds/SomewhereFlying
Summary: No one, not even Morgana, knew why Akira’s power was so different from everyone else’s. Akira didn’t really mind the whole “learn as you go” approach, but as Igor granted him more power, he started to feel strange side effects – random fits of anger, melancholy, mania – without any obvious source. In a fit of inexplicable rage, he storms into Mementos on his own, only to be saved by another persona-user wearing a black and purple body suit…Forming a tentative alliance, they delve into Mementos to discover the source of their strange, shared power, and begin to unravel a vast conspiracy, the cogs of which were set in motion long before Akira ever came to Shibuya.





	1. A Steep Learning Curve

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on vanilla Persona 5, and will be disregarding Persona 5 Royal entirely. That said, it will also contain **spoilers** for the entirety of Persona 5 – like, the whole thing. So please be warned!
> 
> Chapters with sexual content will be marked, and the passages themselves will be marked with double bars for those who’d like to skim. 
> 
> (Alternately, if you're _just_ interested in the explicit chapters, go ahead and jump to [chapter 11](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20650772/chapters/59853952).)
> 
> The canon divergence in this story will explore Akira and Goro’s wildcard ability as well as Morgana’s nature, among other things. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

  
Since the moment Akira had first fallen into the Metaverse, that strange place where reality and cognition blurred into an indistinguishable mishmash, one question had plagued his mind: _Why me?_

He didn’t mean to sound ungrateful. Awaking to Arsène made him feel as though maybe all his troubles had been for a reason after all, that his probation wasn’t just the result of some rich asshole throwing his weight around in order to ruin a teenager’s life – no, it was an honest question. He didn’t know why he had been chosen to wield a Persona… and he _had_ been chosen, hadn’t he? He was the only one who had been granted the ability to traverse that other reality from the very beginning; for Ryuji, for Ann, the app only appeared after they’d met Akira, while Yusuke had been dragged into that world by pure coincidence.

Then there was the matter of his power. Even Morgana was stumped as to why Akira was so flexible, why humanity’s lost souls resonated so strongly with him, why the Personas they found in the Metaverse were so willing to merge with Akira’s mind and his mind alone. It wasn’t a bad thing, really. It was just… different.

Akira supposed that was why the others had elected him to be their leader, another position for which he had been _chosen_, and not entirely of his own volition. He wasn’t going to say no, of course, not when everyone seemed so eager to follow him, but every time he led an exploration into the Metaverse, his heart would race and his chest would grow tight, his mind swimming with anxiety instead of excitement. Their lives were in his hands, and honestly, he didn’t have a clue what he was supposed to be doing.

One of the only places he felt remotely comfortable was that mysterious blue room, a place only he was able to see, apparently. He’d hoped to find some answers there, but the long-nosed man was annoyingly vague at best and downright cryptic at worst, and while the twin wardens were at least open to conversation, they didn’t seem to know any more about his abilities than did Morgana, though he couldn’t fault them for trying.

They were the ones who taught him about fusion.

The first time had been the worst, with the twins incessantly badgering him to give up Arsène, to pass on his untapped power like a baton… but more than anyone else, Arsène was a part of Akira’s soul; the thought of putting him in those stocks made Akira feel like he was killing himself. He couldn’t do it.

The Personas he’d picked up in the Palaces, however, _those_ he didn’t mind sacrificing, and really, after the initial shock wore off, Akira found fusion to be rather soothing. When he was done, he felt a renewed sense of clarity, the anxious chatter in his mind quieting for a moment, allowing him to see the world in a different way. He was pretty good at fusing, too, so much so that the twins had started giving him little challenges. He wasn’t sure why, exactly – maybe it was simply to torment him – but it was fun, and seeing the twins freak out when he succeeded was a reward all its own.

Besides that, he felt a strange kinship with the wardens. It was nice to see them happy.

“Have you decided yet?” Caroline asked, snapping Akira out of his thoughts. She was standing beside the gallows, tapping her foot impatiently, her arms crossed over her bright blue uniform. “We don’t have all day.”

“Day is a meaningless term here, Caroline,” Justine said. “You know that.”

Caroline’s hardened expression faltered. “I – I’m just trying to get him to hurry up…”

“Hold on,” Akira said, waving at them distractedly. “Okay. These two,” he declared, singling out a Makami he’d found wandering around Mementos the other day, as well as his Jack Frost. It’d be a shame to lose Jack, whom Akira had been raising for a few weeks now, but progress demanded sacrifice at times.

“_Finally,_” Caroline intoned, shooting a deliberate look at Akira. He knew better, though; this was her favorite part, and she couldn’t quite hide her smile when it was time to whip out her riding crop and herd the two victims to their guillotines.

Justine shook her head and smiled fondly at neither of them in particular as she took her own position at the controls. “I look forward to seeing what you’ve made for us, inmate,” she said, and threw the lever.

Akira looked away, wincing at the dull thud of the blade hitting his Personas – he may have been used to it now, but that still didn’t make the process pleasant. When he opened his eyes, he found a strange little lion walking out from behind the gallows, shaking its green mane and pawing at the ground until it caught sight of Akira and bounded over to him, sniffing at the cell bars. Akira reached out and pet the creature, which leaned into the touch and nuzzled against his palm before disappearing into a cluster of light, absorbing into Akira’s skin.

“Ah, and he has the skill we asked for, as well,” Justine said, nodding and making a note on her clipboard. “An impressive fusion, indeed.”

“Hmpf.” Caroline had wandered over to Akira’s cell at some point and was now leaning against the wall, looking down at him. “You’re pretty good at this, inmate,” she said.

“At least I’m good for something, right?” Akira asked, and flashed a weak smile. It was enough to make Caroline giggle, a rare sight.

“Oh? Have you made a new discovery?”

A deep voice that seemed to originate from all directions at once reverberated across the room. Akira looked up and saw that Igor, who had been absent when he first arrived, had returned to the Velvet Room, stepping out of the blinding light coming from one of the other cell doors. Akira wished he didn’t have to see Igor walking; it was bad enough to have him staring at Akira while he was at his desk, but seeing him walk around on his spindly legs was just… unnerving.

“Indeed so, Master!” Caroline said, standing at attention and snapping her arms to her side. “He has impressive resolve for a delinquent.”

“Marvelous,” Igor said. He took up his usual place at his desk and began to drum his bony fingers against the surface, all the while watching Akira with his giant bug-eyes.

“I believe I shall grant you the power to hold more Personas within your mind,” he stated after a long moment.

Justine and Caroline looked surprised, exchanging hesitant glances with each other.

“Already, Master?” Justine asked.

“Yeah, are you sure he’s ready?” Caroline added.

Igor turned to look at them. His face didn’t change expression from what Akira could tell, but both the twins blanched like he had fixed them with a death glare, and Justine’s grip on her clipboard tightened dramatically.

“I-Inmate!” Caroline exclaimed, her voice a little squeaky while she tried to regain her cool. “Our Master has deigned to grant you a generous gift! You should be grateful.”

Akira blinked and held up his hand, examining it as if expecting to see some sort of physical change, but he neither looked nor felt any different. He supposed he’d just have to take Igor’s word for it.

“Thank you,” he said. A good response; Igor’s smile spread wide across his face, turning him into a grotesque Cheshire Cat. Akira stood up, feeling a little unsteady on his feet, and wondered if perhaps something within him _had_ changed, after all.

“Enjoy your fleeting moment of rest, inmate,” Justine said to him, his vision turning white as he began to wake.  


* * *

  
Akira was able to test the full extent of his new ability a few days later when he and the Thieves ventured into Mementos with the hopes of making their way to the next barrier wall. Every time they knocked a group of enemies to the ground, Akira stopped the team from pouncing immediately, instead attempting to reason with the monsters and invite them into his consciousness.

He was wildly successful, and he left the Metaverse with a mind full of new personalities. It was interesting, this power, but it was… strange, too. Akira could hear the Personas, _feel_ them inside his mind at all times, his constant companions.

They liked to talk.

Although Akira wasn’t always sure it was the Personas doing the talking. He recognized Arsène’s voice – it sounded a bit like Akira’s own internal monologue, albeit deeper and more prone to reverb – but sometimes the things he heard seemed out of place coming from Arsène’s mouth.

One night when he was up late, unable to quiet his mind, he realized he must have been hearing the thoughts of Shibuya – _all_ of Shibuya, and yet no one in particular. Personas were their own beings, certainly, but they were representations of humanity’s souls first and foremost – at least, if Morgana was to be believed. So when they started to clamor about a messy breakup or a big project deadline, Akira decided he must have been tapping into the public’s collective unconscious, with the Personas acting as conduits for humanity’s dreams, fears, and desires, funneling their every thought into Akira’s head.

It could get… distracting, at times.

“Akira,” someone said.

He was in school right now, he knew, in the courtyard, having lunch with Ryuji – but at the same time, he was in Mementos, his Personas spread out before him like so many soldiers waiting for their next order.

_Shoot, I haven’t studied at all,_ thought a quiet little Sudama floating around in the back of Akira’s mind, his voice meek. Akira sighed. He could empathize; while he didn’t have any tests coming up and midterms had gone well enough, he couldn’t deny that he, too, had been slacking on his studies. Spending so many afternoons in the Metaverse had really cut into his free time.

Akira swept his mind’s eye past the Sudama and found an Archangel flexing his wings irritably.

_That cheating jerk Hirano got what he deserved,_ the angel thought, and Akira – who had never met a Hirano in his life – felt a rush of petty satisfaction.

Beside the angel, a tall knight riding atop a shadowy horse was arguing with a faerie, although over what, Akira couldn’t tell. The knight swung his lance towards her face and she shrieked, firing off a blast of wind in retaliation, while Shiisaa stood to the side, barking and snarling at them both, raking its claws against the ground. Akira’s head throbbed in pain.

“Akira – Akira, c’mon, back me up here!”

“Shut it,” Akira snapped.

Everything went silent, and the courtyard came into clear focus. Ryuji was sitting beside him, a bite of noodles halfway to his mouth when he stopped, stunned, while Morgana turned to shoot Akira a baffled look.

Akira clasped a hand to his forehead and winced. “Sorry – I’m sorry, Ryuji,” he said. “I was just thinking. What were you asking?”

“Ah… s’cool. Don’t worry about it,” Ryuji said. He scratched the back of his neck and looked away before asking, with a noticeable strain in his voice, “So, uh… you wanna do anything this afternoon?”

“…I really need to study,” Akira said.

Ryuji groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. “Don’t say things like that. Bein’ all responsible…”

“Hey, you should take a page out of our leader’s book, _Ryuji_,” Morgana said with a smug lilt, puffing out his chest. “A true gentleman thief is cultured in both mind and body.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ryuji muttered, slurping down the last of his instant noodles. “I’ll stick to training my body for now, thanks.”

“Suit yourself,” Morgana said, shrugging and hopping into Akira’s bag. “But if you end up needing remedial lessons, you won’t be able to explore Palaces with us anymore.”

If it was possible, Ryuji let out an even louder groan, hanging his head and leaning back in his chair so sharply it threatened to tip over. “Okay, okay, I get the picture. Hey, how about I come over to Leblanc after I’m done at the gym? I can bring Ann. She pro’bly needs to study, too.”

“Sure,” Akira said, forcing a smile. “Sounds like a plan.”

Returning to class for the afternoon, Akira made an honest effort to pay attention to Kawakami’s lecture, with middling success. His Personas were no longer arguing, but at the same time, they seemed uninterested in letting him focus on schoolwork, instead opting to talk to each other – and occasionally, directly to _Akira_ – about whatever popular subject struck their fancy. The day passed in a haze, so much so that the final bell startled him when it rang.

After carefully hiding Morgana away, Akira slung his bag over his shoulder and made his way to the third floor. It was cloudy out, maybe already starting to rain, which meant the library would be more crowded than usual; indeed, when he arrived, he found only one free study booth, one where his back would be turned on the room at large. It wasn’t his favorite place to sit – given the choice, he’d much rather have his back to the window, able to observe the room at a glance if he needed – but he’d already drawn attention upon his entrance, so he sat down at the open desk and pulled out his notes.

Things went well, for a time. The rain dampened everyone’s mood and kept the room quiet, despite how crowded it was, and Akira was just starting to fall into a rhythm when he overheard a too-loud whisper:

“Isn’t that the kid with the criminal record? What the heck is he doing in a library?”

They’d made an effort to be quiet, Akira had to acknowledge that. It was a comment that would have gone completely unnoticed anywhere but the library.

“Wait, is that guy really going to sit down and study? Maybe… he’s more of a serious student than he looks?”

_Fuck off,_ Akira thought, gripping his pen tightly. _I need to study as much as anyone._

“Whoa, don’t stare at him. If your eyes meet, that guy is gonna kill you…”

For _fuck’s_ sake. He abruptly snapped his textbook shut, standing and snatching up his bag, leaving the study corner in a rush without bothering to push in his chair on the way out.

“Akira… don’t let them get to you,” Morgana warned.

“Too late,” Akira muttered. It was useless advice now, even though Akira knew Morgana was right: he was just feeding into the rumors by storming off like this, but if he had stayed there for a minute longer, he might have _actually_ yelled at someone, which would have been so much worse.

He hoped to cool off on the way back to Leblanc – perhaps it was the atmosphere at Shujin that was getting on his nerves – but the subway ride was just as awful. It was uncommonly crowded for the time of day, and Akira found himself squished up against a wall, something metal digging into the back of his leg whenever the train took a wide turn – and the _noise_. Were people always this loud on the subway? A dozen whispered conversations, each unobtrusive on their own, amplified one another in a never-ending feedback loop until the little train compartment became a hovel of mindless sound.

Akira all but shoved his way out of the train when it arrived at Yongen-Jaya. His legs were jittery and tense with unused energy, and he walked briskly back to Leblanc, just barely keeping himself from breaking out into a run, as if that would relieve some of the tension in his body. The weather mirrored Akira’s own mind: thunder rumbled through the dark covering of storm clouds that painted the sky steel grey, and he felt a drop of water hit his nose just before he stepped under Leblanc’s awning.

He had enough control not to slam open the front door – he didn’t want to suffer the consequences for _that_ particular action – although he ignored the pointed look Sojiro gave him as he crossed Leblanc. Once upstairs, he threw his bag across the room, where it landed on the bed with a little more force than he’d intended.

“Ow! A-Akira? Hey!” Morgana yelped, scrambling out of the bag. “Where are you going?”

“Out,” Akira said. “Walk,” he clarified, already on his way back down the stairs.

“Wait!” Morgana yelled, but Akira did not, striding out the front door without even pausing to grab an umbrella. Before the rain could really pick up, however, he ducked into one of Yongen-Jaya’s unused alleys and activated the Meta-nav, entering Mementos.

The relief he felt was immediate, from the comforting anonymity of his mask to the familiar weight of Joker’s coat settling on his shoulders. Rain had begun to pour outside the cognitive subway, too, and as he stood at the top of the staircase, Akira could sense the shadows within were riled up, irritated by the rain just as he was. Good. This was what he’d been craving. With a sharp smile, Akira adjusted his gloves and tore off down the stairs into the tunnels, while in his mind, his Personas seemed to realize where they were and grew even more energetic, itching for a fight.

It was hard to navigate the labyrinth without Morgana, but it wasn’t impossible; alone and on foot, he noticed employee access doors hidden periodically along the tunnel walls, which he took the opportunity to explore. Mostly they led to small hallways that ran parallel to the tracks, many acting as shortcuts straight to the next platform – and there were shadows aplenty, all the more for Akira to test his abilities.

After warming up in Aiyatsbus, he dared to delve into the lower floors – maybe even deeper than they’d traveled as a group – eager for a challenge. He was delighted by the way his Personas performed: Arsène was as impressive as always, but even the Personas he’d picked up around Mementos weren’t slouching, winning fight after fight with ease. This constant success – not to mention the arsenal of spells at his disposal – made Akira reckless and cocky, forgetting he was alone, forgetting how long he had been down here already.

It was only a matter of time before he let his guard slip.

Rounding a corner with haphazard speed, Akira ran smack into a pair of Orthruses, who reared back and knocked him straight to the ground. They could have been relatives of Shiisaa with their golden coats and deep turquoise manes, but their fur was matted with dirt and dried blood, and they each had a bony, purple tail flicking violently behind them – a far cry from the friendly creature cowering in Akira’s mind.

Four sets of eyes glared down at him as each of the two-headed beasts stalked forward until they had him flanked. The leftmost creature pawed irritably at the ground, one head shaking its mane, the other gnashing its teeth before lashing out at him with its tail. The sharp edge landed a solid hit to Akira’s side, and he hissed in pain, yet before he even had the chance to catch his breath, the Orthrus on his right lunged forward, snapping at him with both sets of jaws. He only barely managed to roll out of the way in time to avoid having his arm chomped off.

All of a sudden, his mind became clear, and he realized how stupid he had been to come here alone, and on a rainy day of all times…

He threw his arms up around his head and braced himself, hoping only that he could survive one more round and then look for an escape route, but instead of the attack he expected, he felt a rush of wind fly over his head and heard an Orthrus wail in pain. Tentatively, he opened his eyes and peered out between his arms.

Someone new had joined the fray. It looked like a human – a boy? – dressed in swirling grey and indigo stripes with a coal-ash cape fluttering behind him, the fabric dark enough that it blended in with the walls and made Akira dizzy to look at him. Akira groaned; his head was pounding, but for a brief moment, the sounds of battle shut out the yelling in his mind, and he listened patiently until, at last, he heard the Orthruses let out a death cry.

Akira managed to open his eyes, blinking blearily as the world came back into focus. The shadows’ bodies dissolved into thin air, and the stranger holstered his weapons, emerging victorious from the cloud of dust their battle had kicked up. Rather than be on his way, however, the guy was now walking _towards_ Akira, staring him down over the long slope of his nose – he was masked, too, Akira realized – and stopping only once he was looming above Akira, who felt rooted to the ground by the stranger’s imposing aura.

“I never thought I’d see you without your entourage,” he said.

It was the last thing Akira expected to hear. He wanted to laugh, but now that he was out of immediate danger, his Personas had woken up again, chattering incessantly, their words blending together into an incomprehensible racket. He opened his mouth, willing himself to speak, but he choked on every thought, too many ideas trying to escape him at once.

The boy was less than impressed. “Hey, what the hell is wrong with you?” he snapped, grabbing Akira roughly by the collar and pulling him to his knees with a strength Akira hadn’t anticipated. As he stared at Akira, however, his face scrunched up in confusion. “You have more than one Persona within you?” he asked, and Akira managed to nod. “How many?”

Akira tried to focus the cacophony in his mind, separating the souls and counting them out.

“Eight.”

“_Eight?_” The other boy balked and nearly dropped Akira. “Idiot! Release half of them, at least. As many as you can stand to lose.”

Akira twisted his head around to look down the hallway. “Gotta go… see the twins, then…”

His companion scowled. “What are you saying? Just release them from your mind!”

Even if he were able to think properly, Akira thought he wouldn’t know what this guy was talking about. He must have noticed, because he then added: “Let them go! Say goodbye, end your contract; however you got them to join you in the first place, undo that!”

Akira closed his eyes again, trying to concentrate, and at last a few of his weaker Personas appeared to him.

_You can go,_ Akira thought at them. He wasn’t sure if the point would get across, but shortly thereafter he felt their presence fade, growing more and more distant until they had disappeared completely.

It was like flipping a light switch. The roar in his mind immediately quieted, and he could clearly envision his remaining two Personas: Arsène, of course, as well as his Shiisaa, both of whom settled down as if nothing had ever been wrong. Akira let out a long sigh, delighted at last to hear the sweet sound of silence in his brain, and got to his feet, at which point the boy finally let go of Akira’s coat.

“Thank you,” Akira said.

Now that his mind was clear, he was able to get a good look at the one who had saved him, and… he looked like a Phantom Thief, if Akira was being honest. A heavy grey cowl covered his neck and most of his head, and what wasn’t covered by the cowl was obscured by a mask. It was mostly jet-black, but there were tints of red pigment running through the two long, curved horns that dipped over the back of his head, while a pointed nose adorned the front of the mask – an intimidating get-up, with the visibly sharp edges serving the same purpose as a rose’s thorns: a warning to keep away.

The boy just scoffed at him. “Fool. Who would have thought the illustrious leader of the Phantom Thieves would let himself get caught like that?” Akira’s eyes went wide, and the boy laughed. “Are you surprised? Of course I know who you are, _Joker,_” he said, all but spitting out Akira’s codename.

If Akira _was_ surprised, the feeling was only fleeting; this guy clearly had experience traversing Mementos at the very least, so it shouldn’t have been surprising that he knew about the Phantom Thieves, who were relative newcomers to the Metaverse – and considering Shibuya’s size, it wasn’t out of the question to think there would be more Persona-users running around than the few Akira had recruited to his team.

Choosing to ignore the stranger’s condescending tone, Akira asked, “What happened to me?”

For a moment, it seemed like the boy wasn’t going to answer, but then, in a much less aggressive voice, he said, “I can do it too, you know. Carry multiple Personas. It’s quite a rare ability.”

“Do you know others, then?”

“No, but I’ve done research. Personas are elements of one’s soul. Do you think most people have more than one soul?”

Akira shook his head, declining to mention that, had someone asked him the same question before April, he would have laughed in their face for thinking souls were even real.

“Our minds aren’t meant to hold more than one consciousness, and yet we are able to do just that,” the boy continued to explain. “When you have too many with you at once, it becomes… chaotic.”

“That makes sense, I guess,” Akira said. It would explain the myriad voices, anyway.

“The most I’ve ever had with me at once is five,” the boy said, holding up his hand. “Two I keep with me permanently, and I borrow the others as I need them, releasing them after I’m done.”

_That’s smart,_ Akira thought. He wasn’t going to tell this guy that, though. He seemed to have a big enough head as it was.

Akira rubbed the back of his neck and rolled his shoulders, wincing at the dull pain he felt. “Well… thanks, again. I feel a lot better now,” he said.

“Good,” the boy said. “Now, let’s get out of here. I doubt you could survive another encounter.”

“Let’s?” Akira repeated. “You, too?”

“Obviously.” He gave Akira a snide smile. “You already needed me to save you once. Who knows what sort of trouble you’d run into on your way to the surface?”

Frustrating as this guy was, Akira couldn’t argue that it would be smarter to leave together. In his right state of mind, he wouldn’t dream of turning down an extra hand in the event they happened to encounter resistance on the way back.

“Fine, let’s get going.”

The boy laughed, obviously delighted by Akira’s resigned tone, and began to lead the way back to the surface.

They crept through the tunnels cautiously, the world around them lit with an unnatural cobalt blue light that caught on the fleshy spider-web growths coating the walls, making them look like grotesque graffiti art. Without the noise of battle or of his Personas to fill his mind, Akira was struck by how eerily _silent_ Mementos could be, a condition which was only exacerbated by his companion, who seemed wholly uninterested in talking. They climbed through a few floors in silence before Akira couldn’t take it any longer.

“What’s your name?” he asked. The other boy nearly jumped, looking at Akira sideways and narrowing his eyes. Akira smirked. “How can I thank my savior if I don’t even know his name?”

The boy let out a short bark of a laugh. “Is that what you want? Very well… your teammates favor animal names, don’t they? Then why don’t you call me Crow?”

“Crow, huh.” It certainly suited him visually, Akira thought. “Are you saying you’re a teammate of mine?”

“Ha! Hardly. If I were a Thief, that disgusting excuse for a teacher would have been dead where he stood.”

Akira frowned. If this guy knew about Kamoshida, then… could he have been a Shujin student, too? It was hard to tell through his costume, but he certainly seemed to be no older than Akira himself. Asking about that, however, might reveal too much about his own identity, and after deciding it would be best to tread cautiously around this stranger, Akira instead asked, “You’ve been following me?”

“I’ve been following the Thieves,” Crow corrected. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“So if you’ve been following us, why were you surprised I can summon more than one Persona?”

Crow rolled his eyes. “I had to tail you from a fair distance, thanks to your pet.”

Pet?

“Oh, Mona,” Akira realized. “Our navigator.”

“Mm. I couldn’t have him notice me, after all.”

“Guess not.”

“I admit I was surprised by what you all accomplished,” Crow added after a moment. “To get the man to confess his crimes with his own mouth… I’m still not sure how you managed that, even knowing that you had access to this place.”

“You don’t know how?” Akira asked.

“I have _different_ methods for getting my way down here – superior methods – though I will say your technique certainly has a theatrical flair—”

Crow cut himself off, recoiling from the upcoming corner and nearly bumping into Akira, who had been walking just behind him. “Damn,” he growled, shooting a look at Akira. “Are you prepared to fight?”

Peering around the bend, Akira found himself staring at the back of a shadow, red and angry and _huge,_ easily double the size of the enemies he’d been fighting earlier, and he took a moment to assess. All things considered, he hadn’t been roughed up too badly by those Orthruses – Crow had swept in far too quickly for any real damage to befall him. He could handle another fight, no problem, especially if he had assistance.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he said.

Crow stared at him, his face impassive, before turning to face the monster.

“Okay,” he said. “Get ready.”

Leaping from the corner, Crow brought his sword down upon the shadow’s head, causing it to howl in pain and split apart into five oozing green Slimes, which fanned out in a loose semicircle around the pair.

Crow was lightning fast on his feet, summoning his Persona before Akira had even grabbed his dagger, and though their enemies heavily outnumbered them, Akira couldn’t help but tear his eyes from the battlefield, momentarily captivated by his new acquaintance’s Persona. It was humanoid, probably, its form lost beneath black and white lines that zigged and zagged across its body without direction or purpose, fire licking at its heels and long red braids cascading from its head, its whole being exuding exactly the same kind of wild power Akira could sense coming from Crow.

He waited for Crow’s attack, but it never came; instead, his Persona pointed its sword right at Akira, bathing him in pale red light, and Akira felt a sudden rush of energy: his senses became sharper, his limbs became springy and light – he felt like he could take on the world.

Crow tossed a toothy smirk his way and gestured toward the Slimes. “Alright then, Joker,” he said. “Show me what you can do.”

It took a moment to realize what Crow was asking of him. As leader, it benefited the whole team for Akira to keep a cool head in battle, but it would be a lie to say he didn’t enjoy showing off from time to time, and with Crow all but giving him permission, what choice did he have?

“_Arsène!_” he commanded, throwing his arm back and summoning his Persona to the battlefield.

Arsène appeared behind him, his eyes burning with fierce energy. His voice reverberated through Akira’s mind, asking, _What are your orders?_

Akira singled out a Slime right in the middle of the pack with a twirl of his dagger, and replied, _We’re putting on a show._

Aloud, Arsène boomed with laughter. Without asking for clarification, he spread his wings impossibly wide, swirling blue fire sparking between his feathers, and unleashed a wave of cursed energy that radiated out from the center of the Slimes, hitting each enemy in turn and landing with such an impact that Akira could feel the ground vibrate beneath his feet.

Wow. He’d never seen Arsène use curse magic quite that… _intense_ before. Perhaps he should try showing off more often.

Beside him, Crow returned Arsène’s laughter with his own, leaping forward and summoning that same Persona again.

_“Go, Loki!”_

This time, Crow’s Persona pointed his sword towards the enemy, letting loose a barrage of powerful slices, some so quick they seemed to hit the Slimes twice. Two shadows couldn’t withstand the attack, exploding into piles of useless sludge on the ground, while one of the survivors made a move towards Akira. Thanks to Loki’s spell from earlier, however, he dodged without a second thought, and then, before the next Slime could even think about reacting, Akira called Arsène forth again, snapping his fingers and burying the Slime in a column of shadowy energy. The creature barely registered the hit before dissolving into nothingness.

Again, Crow laughed, staring down the remaining two Slimes and pulling out a gun. It was a frighteningly real looking item, firing a bullet that burned a hole straight through one Slime and into the next, leaving a gaping, charred wound in its wake. Akira took advantage of their confusion to slip in with his dagger and deliver the killing blows, slicing the shadows to soggy, sludgy ribbons.

For a moment, he held his breath, waiting to see if any other enemies planned to show up, but as the last Slimes dissolved away, it became clear that the fight was over. Akira stood up and flicked the excess muck off of his dagger, wiping it on his pants before sheathing it again.

“Arsène Lupin, hmm?” Crow’s eyes flicked up and down over Joker’s costume appraisingly. “Figures.”

“You’re one to talk, _Loki,_” Akira shot back. Crow looked halfway offended at the insinuation, scowling and striding past Akira with a huff.

With the battle over, they were free to make their way towards the surface once again, and Akira noticed that Crow seemed a good deal more relaxed now – pleased, perhaps, to know that Akira wasn’t a complete pushover – and chattier, as well.

“How long have you had him? Your Persona?” Crow asked.

Akira shrugged. “Since April.”

“…April,” Crow repeated. “Absurd. That you’re so powerful after a mere two months…”

“Ah, so you admit it.”

Crow growled at him, but there was no bite to it. “Don’t forget who saved you today. I said you have strength, but in a one-on-one fight, I’d crush you.”

“Oh yeah?” Akira stretched casually, crossing his arms behind his head. “Name a time and a place, and we’ll see.”

“Mm… tempting, but I fear I’m far too busy to indulge you in such trivial whims.”

“Sounds like someone’s afraid they’ll lose to a newbie,” Akira commented, earning himself a glare from Crow.

“Do you always make a habit of antagonizing the people who intend to help you?” Crow asked.

“Nah, just you,” Akira said. In the back of his mind, a nagging voice told him he probably shouldn’t act quite so blasé around this – admittedly very powerful – stranger, but for all his tough talk, the guy _had_ saved Akira’s life, and escorted him back to the surface as well.

Surely he couldn’t be that dangerous.

From there on, it was a quick, uneventful stroll back to the entrance level of Mementos. Akira had been thinking about this for a few floors now, about how things were going to play out now that it was time to leave, and once they had finished climbing the final set of stairs, they both paused, standing awkwardly a few feet apart.

“I’m staying,” Crow finally said. “You, however, should probably go.”

“Gotta protect that secret identity, huh?”

“Sure, why not,” Crow said, waving his hand dismissively. “Anyway, shouldn’t you be glad about that? You wouldn’t want me to discover _your_ identity either, now would you? Oh great leader of the Phantom Thieves?”

“I guess,” Akira said. He toyed with his bangs, twisting a tuft between his fingers. “Well, thanks again for saving me. I owe you.”

Crow laughed. “You may regret saying so.”

Unexpectedly, Akira found himself grinning along. “Hey, if you see me around again, you should come say hello,” he said. “I bet the others would like to meet you.” _Morgana especially_ – but really, he thought the whole group would be interested to meet another Persona-user, especially someone as experienced as Crow.

Yet at this suggestion, Crow’s eyes went dull, his lips set in a thin line. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he said. “You and I have different goals. We may even be enemies… it wouldn’t be wise for us to meet again.”

“Oh, I got it,” Akira said, giving Crow an exaggerated eye roll. “Lone wolf, huh.”

Crow sighed irritably. “Just go home already, Joker.”

“The Thieves and I have reasons to explore this place, y’know,” Akira said. “If you’re trying to scare me off, it’s not going to work.”

“I couldn’t care less what you and your merry band get up to in your spare time,” Crow snapped. “Just don’t go wandering around here alone again… I may have no choice but to attack you.”

It was such a serious declaration that Akira’s first instinct was to laugh, though he had enough sense to tamp down that urge and simply nod instead.

“All right then.”

“Good. I’m glad you understand.”

Crow stood solidly in place, obviously uninterested in turning his back on Akira, who, on the other hand, thought it would be a delightfully cocky move to turn and leave without looking back, curious though he was. Once he had all but reached the exit, he heard the distinct sound of footsteps echoing through the cavernous room, and when he glanced back over his shoulder, Crow was gone.  


* * *

  
Back in reality, the rain had slowed to a steady shower, and Akira walked back to Leblanc without rushing. He was almost completely soaked when he arrived, and he stood under the awning for a moment, vainly trying to squeeze the water out of his sleeves before he finally bit the bullet and stepped inside.

“Wel– oh, for god’s sake,” Sojiro muttered.

“Sorry, Boss,” Akira said.

“Don’t apologize; just go get changed already and – and stop dripping on my floor!” Sojiro said, glaring at him.

Akira didn’t need to be told twice. He made his way to the stairs and up into the attic, where he found – to no surprise – Ann and Ryuji sitting around his table playing some sort of card game, with Morgana perched on top, watching.

“Akira!” Morgana exclaimed, leaping to his feet so suddenly he startled Ann and Ryuji, who instantly threw their cards down and stood up as well.

“Hi,” Akira said.

“You idiot!” Ann yelled, rushing over and punching him in the arm with a surprising amount of force.

“Did you go to the Metaverse?” Morgana asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I just went to Mementos,” Akira said. He swallowed, and decided they didn’t need to hear exactly what he did. “I didn’t go anywhere, just hung around the surface. I wanted to be alone.”

“Really?” Ann asked. “Are you sure about that? Don’t think that wasn’t the first place we went to look for you.”

“Mementos is pretty big,” Akira said. “Even the surface. I walked for a while. Are you sure you looked hard enough?”

“You must’a gone for a hell of a walk, then,” Ryuji said, “since Mona couldn’t even sense you.”

_Damn,_ Akira thought. They really had gone looking for him. “Sorry if I worried you,” he said, running a hand through his hair. It came back damp.

Ryuji sighed, walking over to Akira’s box of clothes and digging out a towel, which he tossed at Akira’s head. “You’ve been totally weird lately, dude,” he said.

“Sorry,” Akira said again. He wrapped the towel around his neck, drying off the fringe of his hair. “Are you angry at me?”

“I mean, a little!” Ann said. She wandered back over to her chair and collapsed into it. “You could have died, y’know?”

“I was worried, too,” Morgana said. “I don’t like to admit it, but I’m not strong enough on my own. If I ever want to discover who I am, I need you guys.” His eyes flashed as he fixed Akira with a glare. “We made a deal, remember?”

“I remember,” Akira said, a pang of guilt running through his chest. It was embarrassing now to realize how reckless he’d been, rushing off to fight alone when he had so many people relying on him. He owed them at least a little transparency. “It’s… my power. Taking in so many Personas the other day… it messed with me. I went to Mementos to release them.”

The admission sparked an immediate reaction: anger was replaced with concern, surprise, even mild horror – the realization that they still knew so little about their newfound abilities was, perhaps, a bit of a slap in the face.

“For real?” Ryuji asked. Akira nodded, and Ryuji’s eyes went wide. “_Damn._”

“Well… at least you know now, right?” Ann asked.

“…it’s understandable that you’re still discovering the full extent of your power,” Morgana said, “but that’s all the more reason for you not to go wandering off by yourself!”

“Morgana’s right,” Ann said. “We’re all learning together, yeah? So you can lean on us.”

“For sure!” Ryuji came up and clapped his hand against Akira’s shoulder, causing his wet shirt to squelch a little. “I mean, I might not always know what to say… but I’ll listen, y’know?”

Akira nodded. “Right. Thanks, guys. I won’t run off again.”

It was naïve of him to think he’d mastered his new abilities after a scant two months, but at least failure was a good teacher. He knew now to be more selective about the kinds of Persona he accepted into his mind, to ensure he would always stay in control, and he knew he shouldn’t go looking for Crow again, either; it would be irresponsible of him. The mystery of this new Persona-user, one whose power so closely mirrored Akira’s own, would have to remain just that – a mystery. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! ♥ If you enjoyed it, feel free to come say hello to me on twitter, [@somewhereflying](https://twitter.com/somewhereflying).


	2. Rumor, Speculation, and Truth

* * *

  
With one final cry, the Yaksini before them crumpled to the ground, the edges of her skirt turning to cinders in the aftermath of Ann’s devastating flames. Her long black hair curtained her face as she faded from sight and was replaced by an ordinary high school girl, one who looked on the verge of a breakdown. She screamed and sobbed as her worldview was suddenly and drastically altered, allowing her to see how possessive and cruel she had acted.

Akira holstered his gun and hung back, letting Ann take the reins on this one, and after a polite but firm order to back off, the shadow seemed to accept her fate. Then she, too, faded away, leaving no obstacle between the Thieves and their destination.

Morgana sighed. “I’m glad that’s over with. Now all that’s left is…”

He trailed off, wandering over to the barrier that marked the far end of this path. Akira was quick to follow him, and soon all the Thieves stood before the door, which remained immobile for a moment, until – as if recognizing their existence – it began to creak and groan, separating into four smooth sections that folded away into the cavern walls.

“Yesss!” Morgana punched his fist in the air. “I knew it! The more people know of our existence, the more we’ll be able to explore this place.”

“All this is because of Madarame’s confession, then?” Yusuke asked, taking a step closer and noting the stairs leading further down. “How fascinating…”

“Well, yeah,” Ann said. “His exhibition was, like, a totally big deal. So I bet a bunch of people watched his confession.”

“Totally!” Ryuji suddenly appeared between Akira and Ann, slinging his arms around both of their shoulders. “And this just means we’ve gotta go after an even bigger target next, right, Monamona?”

“That’s right!” Morgana beamed up at them like a proud mentor, too excited to complain about Ryuji’s choice of nickname. “I knew you guys had it in you… so what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

They took to the stairs, skipping steps as they descended even deeper into Mementos. The wind picked up, carrying a dense cloud of black specks along with it, while the stone walls began to change color, shifting from blue to grey to sickly olive green, though it was all still familiar to Akira. He’d definitely managed to bypass this barrier somehow…

They had just reached the platform on the next level when Morgana stopped abruptly.

“Wait, guys,” he called out to the group as they prepared to step onto the rails. He ran back to the staircase, his ears swiveling around like he was trying to pinpoint the location of a sound.

“What is it, Mona?” Ann asked.

“I… I thought I…” Morgana sighed, shaking his head and jogging back over to the group. “It’s nothing. I keep sensing something, but when I go to look for it, it’s gone.” Then he leapt from the platform, transforming mid-air and landing heavily on his tires. “Let’s just keep our eyes open while we’re exploring, okay?”

The group piled into the car, Akira taking the wheel. This path was more naturally lit than the previous, but it was also _darker_, somehow, as if the light was being bottlenecked through a thick layer of grime. It would have been difficult terrain under any circumstances, and right now, Akira was distracted, unable to keep from glancing in the rear-view mirror every couple of seconds, hoping he might catch sight of… something.

He hadn’t said it at the time, but honestly, he’d felt the same thing Morgana had: a presence lurking just beyond his line of sight, as if there was something right in his peripheral vision, but no matter how he turned, he couldn’t catch a glimpse of whatever it was.

Despite that, he was pretty sure it was Crow. The guy had already admitted to following the Thieves, so it wasn’t a stretch of the imagination to say he was doing it again… except Crow was a pretty competent fighter, at least from what Akira could tell, and with that outfit, he’d have no trouble blending in with his surroundings. If he was following the Thieves and didn’t want to be caught, Akira was sure he’d be practically invisible.

So for Akira to have noticed him… it must have been on purpose. The only question was _why_.

After a few minutes of exploring, they approached a set of narrow tunnels through which they couldn’t comfortably drive, so they disembarked the Mona-bus and continued on foot. Without the rumble of Morgana’s motor, they could more easily tune in to the ambient sounds of Mementos: the distant hum of subway trains roaring below them, the whistle of wind blowing through cracks in the stone walls, and the vaguest hint of… voices.

This time, it wasn’t something only Akira and Morgana noticed; everyone seemed to hear it, the noise indistinct but growing louder by the second, and without ever giving the order, the team shifted into a stealthier formation, Akira at the helm. He followed the sound down a few twists and turns before finally pinpointing the source: a room a few meters away, one attached to this tunnel by nothing more than an empty door frame. Akira gestured for the Thieves to group up on the opening, and once they were in position, they peered around the corner carefully.

Two long, noodly dog shadows were floating in the middle of the room, twisting around in the air as they spoke with each other. The cylindrical Inugami buried its dark-furred face in its paws, shaking its head violently.

“N-no way!” it said, in the kind of squeaky voice one would expect to hear from an anxious puppy. “I’m not goin’ out there. Not when that black mask guy is around…”

“Oh, come on! That must have been hours ago,” the paper-flat Makami retorted. “Don’t be such a wimp. We’re just waiting for trouble sitting around here…”

“Hey,” Ryuji whispered, ducking his head down to address the group. “Didn’t Madarame mention something about that? About a black mask or whatever?”

“I seem to recall that, as well,” Yusuke said.

“Hmm… hey, Joker!” Morgana whispered, his eyes already gleaming with excitement. “They might know something. If we beat them up, we could ask them some questions. What do you think?”

Akira turned back to the shadows, who were still squabbling and seemed like they weren’t going anywhere in a hurry. Compared to what they’d fought in Madarame’s dungeon, these two were nothing special; taking them down would be a walk in the park, and even if their interrogation yielded no results, it would pose no risk to the team. Worst case scenario, they’d just waste some time.

“Okay,” Akira said. He pointed to Ryuji, Morgana, and Yusuke in turn. “Once we get into battle, Skull, I want you to take the flat one; Mona, take the round one. Use your skills; Fox and I will back you up just in case.”

The group nodded, and on Akira’s signal, they rushed into the room, Akira firing two bullets into the closest shadow’s back, catching them both by surprise. The Inugami wailed in pain, while the Makami flipped around to confront the Thieves, only to immediately turn on its companion.

“I told you!” it barked. “Told you we were gonna get caught!”

The Inugami opened its mouth to defend itself from the verbal attack, failing to notice the far more physical attack Morgana was preparing; Zorro’s gust of wind made a direct hit, leaving the shadow crumpled and whimpering on the ground before he could say a word. The Makami growled, about to go on the offensive when Ryuji called down a bolt of lightning that sparked and crackled over its body, causing it to go rigid for a moment before floating gently to the floor.

“That’s… no fair…” the fallen Makami huffed as the Thieves closed ranks around their enemies.

“Oh, chill out,” Ryuji said, lazily brandishing his gun at it. “We just wanna ask you some questions.”

The Makami scowled, but as it tried to get to its feet, electricity sparked through its paper-folded fur, and it remained firmly on the ground. “Fine… what you want?” it asked.

Morgana pulled his slingshot taut and demanded, “What can you tell us about that guy in the black mask? The one you were talking about earlier?”

“Him?” The Makami scoffed. “He’s nothing. He bothers you humans’ shadows, not us. Not my problem.”

At this, the Inugami whimpered in protest, and Akira pointed his gun in its direction. “Hey,” he called out, causing the shadow to peer up through its paws. “Is that true?”

The Inugami looked back and forth between Akira and the Makami before finally blurting out in one big rush: “No way! He, he – I heard if he looks at you funny, he’ll make you go totally crazy!”

“Please, that’s just a myth–”

“It’s _not_!” the Inugami barked, cutting off its friend and growing a bit bolder as a result, shifting its gaze frantically between all the Thieves. “You humans know it too, right? I can hear your thoughts all the time. Weird stuff’s happening out there, yeah?”

“I believe we’re asking the questions here,” Yusuke said.

“Yeah! And what d’ya mean, ‘go crazy’?” Ryuji asked.

“It’s like… you can’t talk, you can’t think, you just… run around, attacking friends, attacking strangers – no reason why,” the Inugami said. It placed its paws against the side of its head and threw them out, imitating an explosion. “Totally scary.”

The Makami shook its head. “You don’t know what you’re talkin’ about. He’s just some guy. No different than you four,” it said, finally dragging itself up from the ground and glaring at Akira. “Okay, you got your answers. We good now?”

Akira glanced at Morgana, who gave him a subtle nod.

“We’re good. Scram,” Akira said, gesturing off to the side with his gun, while Ryuji and Yusuke stepped away, leaving the path to the exit unobstructed. The shadows hesitated for only a moment before they scrambled into the air and bolted from the room, disappearing into the labyrinth of tunnels.

“Those reports seemed somewhat inconclusive,” Yusuke commented.

“That’s what it sounded like from my end, too,” Ann said, as the group rejoined her outside. It was dead silent and completely still, the shadows already long gone.

“Well…” Morgana said, glancing up and down the hallway, “that wasn’t exactly helpful, but as long as we’re here anyway, what do you say we do a little more investigating?”

No one objected. As they interrogated shadow after shadow, however, a pattern began to emerge: not only were most of the stories as similarly far-fetched as the Inugami’s, but some were outright contradictory with each other.

“He goes around looking for the strongest human shadows he can find,” one shadow claimed, “as a test of his strength,” while another swore up and down that the mysterious figure would kill any shadow that stood in his way, regardless of origin, just to get his hands on their cash. Some said he was a human, or no, he was a shadow, or something else entirely – no one had ever seen below that mask of his, the most striking feature of his costume. Was he even male? It was hard to say. What were his motives? No one knew.

The most worrisome account came when Akira asked one shadow how long the Black Mask had been around, and the creature simply answered,

“As long as I can remember.”

Perhaps it didn’t mean much. Akira had no clue as to the average lifespan of a shadow; it was possible this creature had materialized into existence just yesterday… but it was equally likely that this shadow was several years old, and Akira honestly wasn’t sure which was the more frightening choice: that the Black Mask had been around for years, with all the experience that entailed, or that he had appeared only as recently as the Thieves themselves – and yet in that time, he had made such an impact that the shadows were telling stories about him.

“We don’t even know if this guy exists,” Ann said later that evening, when the group had retired to Leblanc’s attic for the day. “What if he’s just, like, some kinda fairytale monster for the shadows?”

“But I _did_ sense someone following us,” Morgana protested. “I’m sure I did…”

“I think it would be best to trust Morgana’s judgment for now,” Yusuke said. “Furthermore, how could Madarame’s shadow know of this person if he didn’t truly exist?”

“That’s true,” Ann conceded.

“I _guess_ it won’t hurt to be careful,” Ryuji said. “It sucks, though… I’m so revved up after Madarame. I just wanna jump right back in, y’know?”

“We have plenty of time to find a new target,” Akira said. “We don’t want to rush into something and risk exposing ourselves.”

“I agree,” Morgana said, nodding. “You guys should lay low for a while. It won’t do to have you getting in trouble here in the real world… and we should keep a low profile in Mementos, as well. If this Black Mask does exist, it’s almost impossible he doesn’t already know of us, but there’s no need to draw undue attention our way.”

“I know; you’re right, you’re right,” Ryuji grumbled in resignation. “Ugh, this is gonna be so boring… we’ve still got, like, a month until summer break, huh?”

“Well hey, we’ve got that field trip coming up soon, right?” Ann said, her voice squeaking up an octave in an attempt to sound optimistic, but she wasn’t even fooling herself. The information they’d gathered today – regardless of its legitimacy – had left them all feeling anxious, and the promise of a school-sanctioned excursion did little to help.

And all the while, Akira never once mentioned Crow. He had ample opportunity, and even incentive, to do so, yet something compelled him to keep quiet. He didn’t want to admit he’d lied about what happened when he ran off to Mementos unsupervised, and besides, the information they had right now was just too weak to draw any real conclusions. If they were totally off base, then telling everyone about this other Persona-user would just cause unnecessary worry. Yes, the best course of action was to keep this little tidbit to himself for a while longer…

Crow’s mask _was_ black, though. Akira couldn’t deny that.  


* * *

  
For all that Shujin had hyped up their trip to the television station, the actual day itself was dreadfully boring, Akira spending most of his time moving heavy equipment from place to place, seemingly without purpose. What was he supposed to be learning from this experience, again? He’d honestly forgotten – assuming there had even been a reason in the first place. By the end of the day, the only thing Akira felt he had learned was that television stations were evidently much larger than he’d imagined, as when he finally met back up with Ann and Ryuji, they were so far backstage that they had become completely lost.

“I am sooo tired,” Ann groaned. “How can I be so worn out when I didn’t do anything all day…?”

“Well I know _exactly_ why I’m tired,” Ryuji said, rubbing his shoulder emphatically. “Who knew television involved so much heavy lifting…”

Ann winced in sympathy. “Ugh, yeah. I guess it coulda been worse for me, huh? They treated you two like pack mules.”

“Right? Like, what the hell, man. I thought we were supposed to be guests.” Ryuji shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked ineffectively at the floor. “And the _worst_ part,” he added, “is there’re a whole buncha garbage people here, but not like… y’know.”

“Not like Madarame,” Akira filled in.

“Not even like Kamoshida,” Ann said.

“Hey! What’d we say about keeping a low profile?” Morgana chided. “Even somewhere like here, we could be overheard…”

Ryuji rolled his eyes. “Other people are talking about them, y’know. We don’t hafta be _that_ careful.”

“And – hey!” Ann said, waving at Morgana, “Wouldn’t a cat be way more suspicious? Keep down!”

Morgana whimpered, flattening his ears and ducking back down into Akira’s bag with a quiet, “Sorry, Lady Ann.”

They reached the next hallway intersection when, as if summoned by the sheer force of irony, came the sudden and unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching. From inside Akira’s bag, they heard Morgana mutter “Told you so,” while the rest of the group stopped short to avoid a collision.

They waited and watched as a young man came walking down the hall. He was very neatly dressed, his blazer crisp and fitted, his dark slacks freshly ironed – perhaps the only thing out of place about him was his hair: warm chestnut brown locks that fell below his chin in the back and hung in choppy tufts around his face. Perfectly poised and focused, he traversed the halls with a clear destination in mind, his attention flicking over to the three of them only very briefly. For a moment he looked as though he would pass them by without pause, but when his gaze landed on Akira, he stuttered and came to a halt, his eyes going wide with surprise.

Akira stared back. He couldn’t help it – the newcomer had pretty eyes, deep garnet red and incredibly striking, bordering on… familiar, though in a way Akira couldn’t quite place.

“Um, is everything okay…?” Ann asked after a lengthy pause.

This seemed to snap the boy out of his reverie. He blinked, and suddenly his entire disposition changed, a perfectly manicured smile coming to his face. “Oh! My apologies,” he said, his voice bright and peppy. “You just looked very familiar to me for a moment. But clearly I was mistaken, yes?”

Akira nodded. Surely he’d have remembered someone like this.

“Oh… your uniforms.” The boy had fully recovered from his awkward entrance now, slipping into an easy, casual stance. “Perhaps that was the reason for my confusion. Are you from Shujin Academy, by chance?”

“Uh. Yeah?” Ryuji said.

The boy chuckled. “Ah, I’ve seen so many of you around today. Your outfits are quite distinct, after all.” He paused, his attention momentarily drifting back to Akira before he refocused yet again. “Well! Please don’t let me keep you; I’m sure you’re eager to get home. If you’re looking for the exit, you can head down the way I just came,” he said, making a sweeping gesture with the arm that wasn’t currently holding a small grey briefcase.

“Uh, cool!” Ann said, peering around the corner to confirm that an exit was, indeed, within sight. “Thanks!”

“It’s my pleasure,” he said. “I hope you enjoy your afternoon.”

With that, he continued on his way, walking briskly down the hall in the opposite direction of the exit, turning around a corner and disappearing.

“Weirdo,” Ryuji muttered. “But hey, at least we’re outta here now! C’mon.”

They toppled out of the plain backstage exit and found themselves, at last, free from the confines of the television station. They began their walk back to the train station, though they’d barely made it a few meters before Ann gave Akira a quick jab to his side.

“_Wow,_” she intoned, a huge grin spreading across her face.

“What’s that for?” Akira asked.

“Um, that guy literally stopped in his tracks when he saw you,” Ann pointed out. “Or did you not notice?”

Akira felt his face go hot. “It’s nothing,” he said, waving his hand. “He probably just thought he recognized me, like he said.”

“Ugh, you shouldn’t be so modest, y’know.” Ann sighed wistfully. “I wonder who he was… he didn’t even say his name.”

“You’re readin’ too much into this,” Ryuji said.

“I agree,” Akira said, adjusting his glasses and pulling his arms in close, trying to make himself smaller. He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was being teased.

“Oh my god, can you guys just let me have this?” Ann asked, pouting. “Nothing exciting ever happens to me.”

“What?” Ryuji almost shrieked. “How can you say that after–” he caught himself, lowering his voice, “after all the shit that’s happened to us?”

“I mean – not like _that_, dummy, I mean something… dramatic!” Ann said, waving both hands for emphasis. “Y’know?” She looked to Akira and Ryuji, who stared blankly back.

“Um…” Morgana said, the tips of his ears just visible over Akira’s shoulder, “I don’t really get it, either.”

“Oh, forget it,” Ann groaned, hanging her head in defeat. “You’re probably right… what are the odds we’ll ever see him again, anyway?”  
  


* * *

  
“I can’t believe it’s this fuckin’ guy again,” Ryuji muttered, slumping down into his seat and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Ryuji, shush!” Ann hissed, swatting him lightly on the shoulder. “And sit up! What if we end up on camera?”

Ryuji grumbled, but he sat up straight nonetheless.

The second day of their field trip had been, if nothing else, less labor-intensive than the first, though no less boring – at least until it was time for filming to begin. The studio executives ushered all the Shujin students into several rows of plastic chairs that faced a gaudy sound stage on which a small live interview was about to be conducted, and as they were waiting restlessly for the show to begin, who should appear but the very same boy they’d run into yesterday. Goro Akechi, the host had called him, a high school detective, one important enough to be interviewed by at least the local news, it would seem.

“I should have recognized him,” Ann mumbled under her breath. “He’s been all over the place lately.”

“Oh yeah?” Akira asked, though he wasn’t really listening to her, too engrossed with the conversation happening on stage. He was a little surprised the topic had turned to the Phantom Thieves; even after Madarame’s confession, their popularity seemed very localized and sparse – not something he’d have thought would catch the eye of the police.

On the other hand, it must have presented a very unique case for a detective. That was how Akechi seemed to think, at least, and he theorized at length about their methods, their sense of justice – about how he hoped they existed, and yet if they did, that he would have to prosecute them – while the hosts ate up every word he said. In fact, the whole room was buzzing with excitement; Akira hadn’t realized how big an impact the Phantom Thieves had made on their little school.

The female host stood up, sweeping through the audience in search of an eager participant, and despite the fact that he clearly lacked his classmates’ enthusiasm, Akira was the one she singled out of the crowd. She approached him, bent over slightly, and asked,

“Hypothetically speaking, what are your thoughts on these Phantom Thieves, if they were real?”

Akira looked from the host back to the sound stage. The studio lights were blindingly bright, Akira knew – he had helped to set them up – but still, there seemed to be a moment after the camera turned to him and the host shoved a microphone in his face that he and Akechi locked eyes.

Akira lowered his mouth to the mic and said, “They do more than the cops.”

The audience gasped, and Akira could practically feel Kawakami glaring at him from somewhere out in the studio, but Akechi, who steadfastly held Akira’s gaze, did not gasp. He blinked slowly, thoughtfully.

And then, he laughed.

It broke the tension in the room quite effectively, the audience laughing alongside him, though to Akira, the sound seemed forced. The look on Akechi’s face during the split second before he laughed had been so contemplative, like Akira had really caught him by surprise; Akira wanted to have _that_ conversation, not… whatever this was about to turn into.

“You have such conviction,” Akechi said. “I wonder if all those believers in the audience would agree with you, as well…?”

“Well, everyone?” the male host asked. “Using your buttons, do you agree with this young man’s assessment?”

There was a brief flurry of movement while the students all fumbled to buzz in. Out of the corner of his eye, Akira saw Ryuji frantically mashing the “yes” button.

“56%!” the host exclaimed after the results were tallied.

Again, Akechi laughed. “Oh, come now. How many of you voted yes just to spite me?” he asked, earning another peal of laughter from the audience. Then the host asked Akechi something bland about working alongside the police, and Akechi, with the grace and talent of an experienced actor, followed suit. It was all very surface-level details, and yet Akira could sense Ryuji and Ann growing more and more tense the longer Akechi spoke about the budding investigation into the Phantom Thieves.

The short meet-and-greet segment wrapped up just a few minutes later, which meant the Shujin students were at last free to leave. Akira followed the tide until he found a small alcove in which he could stand, dutifully waiting for Ryuji to return from the restroom so they could leave together and idly scrolling through his phone when a sudden voice caught his attention.

“Oh, it’s you…!”

Akira looked up. The boy from before – Akechi – was coming his way, and for a moment, Akira thought he must have been looking for someone else, but a quick glance over his shoulder told him he was largely alone in this part of the studio. He was definitely the one Akechi had addressed.

“Ah… yeah,” Akira said. He stood upright and pocketed his phone while Akechi came closer, close enough that he could speak and be heard over the general commotion in the studio.

“I’m glad I was able to catch you,” he said. Off-stage, Akira noted, Akechi spoke in a soft-toned, melodic voice, his words unhurried and measured, as if he was considering them very carefully before committing to any one sentence. “You really took me by surprise earlier, you know. I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?” Akira asked.

“That’s right,” Akechi said. “It may surprise you – or perhaps it wouldn’t – but many people are unwilling to say something contrary while being filmed. So for you to disagree with me so openly… it was quite refreshing.” He trailed off, dropping his smile. “Also, I wanted to apologize again for my behavior yesterday; it was terribly rude of me to stare.”

“It’s fine,” Akira said. “Don’t sweat it.”

“I’m sure you’ve already guessed my name, but I’d like to properly introduce myself,” he said, bringing his free hand to his chest. “My name is Goro Akechi… I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”

“Akira Kurusu. And, uh, likewise.”

“Still… of all people, for the host to pick _you_ out of the crowd… it almost feels as though we were supposed to meet.” Akechi gave him a small smile – different, somehow, than the one he’d used on camera – and Akira wondered if maybe Ann had been onto something, after all. “If it’s okay with you, would you mind speaking with me again sometime?”

One of Akira’s hands gravitated unconsciously to the back of his neck. Akechi’s drive to apprehend the Phantom Thieves was still fresh in his mind, and while it was highly unlikely an ordinary detective could draw a connection between Akira and the group, it still seemed unnecessarily risky to give Akechi a chance to learn more about Akira.

“I – yeah, sure,” was what he ended up saying, though, the thought _it’s important to keep my enemies close_ flitting through his mind as he retrieved his phone.

“Ah, wonderful. Well, I shouldn’t keep you any longer,” Akechi said. “I hope to see more of you in the future. Until then…!”

Akechi lifted his hand in a quick wave, leaving so swiftly after his arrival that Akira barely had time to process the encounter. He looked down at the phone in his hand.

_He didn’t even wait to exchange chat IDs…_  


* * *

  
The next day, after Morgana had curled up for an early evening nap, Akira slipped out of Leblanc and made his way to the Velvet Room.

He wasn’t sneaking off simply to be contrary this time; his visit _did_ have a purpose. Now that he knew the dangers of carrying too many Personas, he was hyper-aware of their presence, and even carrying as few as four felt like a Herculean task. So when he found himself unable to focus on something as simple as crafting a lockpick, he knew he needed to rid his mind of at least one of those extra personalities.

Now he was standing in his cell, his arms looped through the bars as he contemplated which of his Personas he would send to the gallows today. Arsène, as always, was out of the question; instead, he pointed out a tiny, punk-rocker pixie girl and a bored-looking Nekomata, leaving his final Persona – a giant bird with brilliant vermilion plumage – safe for now.

Justine and Caroline swept the two victims away, and in no time at all, a tall, noble skeleton emerged from the guillotine. He grinned a permanent, bony smile and gave a sweeping bow before he faded away, reappearing in Akira’s mind only seconds later.

“An impressive job, as always,” Justine said, making a note on her clipboard.

“Yeah. You almost look cool now, trickster,” Caroline said.

Ah, that again. Inmate, trickster, wildcard – Akira was starting to wonder if the twins even knew his real name. Given the unique quality of his power, he supposed the title made sense, although… he wasn’t quite so unique anymore, was he?

“Hey, Justine?” Akira asked. The quieter twin turned to him expectantly. “Am I the only wildcard?”

“The only wildcard?” Justine repeated. Her eyebrows rose up beneath her hat. “As far as I know, yes…”

Akira hummed thoughtfully. It was the answer he’d expected – Crow had seemed just as confused when Akira had alluded to the wardens as Justine was now – if not necessarily the one he had wanted.

“What, not going to bother asking me?” Caroline asked, crossing her arms.

Akira blinked. “Do you know?”

“Well… no,” Caroline admitted, her voice faltering. “B-but only people with a contract are allowed to enter this place! And we don’t have contracts with anyone else right now. So doesn’t that mean you’re the only one?”

“Do _you_ know of another wildcard, inmate?” Justine asked.

“…I don’t know, I guess,” Akira said. “I was just curious.”

“I see,” Justine said. “A second wildcard… that would be quite the development.”

“Well _I_ think you’re just making things up,” Caroline said, thwaping her riding crop against the wall. “Don’t be foolish.”

“Right,” Akira said. He pushed himself up off the door, and, with a half-hearted wave, he shuffled to the far end of his cell, the heavy chain around his foot scraping against the floor as he did. Caroline huffed and walked away, but Justine watched him leave with a contemplative expression on her face.

Stepping out of the ethereal blue jail cell, Akira found himself back into the lobby of Mementos, which was as empty and silent as always. He glanced to the exit, knowing he should simply head back to reality now – it would be the responsible thing to do – and yet… in that moment, an intense curiosity gripped him.

He wouldn’t have to go far, he reasoned with himself, already descending the broken escalator leading into the depths. He could stay on the upper levels, open his senses, and just… observe for a little while. Who knew? He might learn something useful.

Sticking to the walls, Akira began to prowl around Mementos. Five minutes became ten, which quickly became twenty, forty, and as he was approaching an hour of aimless wandering, he realized what a stupid idea this had been. Mementos was huge, and what were the odds that Crow was here today, at this very moment? Sighing, Akira stepped away from the wall and brushed some dirt off his coattails. He should have turned around and gone straight home after fusing Matador… he could only hope Morgana was still asleep back in reality; he wasn’t looking forward to explaining yet another hour-long disappearance.

It was easy traveling on the way back to the entrance, as Mementos was oddly devoid of shadows tonight, so much so that Akira didn’t even bother to hide himself, casually strolling down the middle of the subway tunnels. The unnatural calm should have immediately triggered his mental alarm bells, but he was too busy sulking about his dumb decision to notice, and it wasn’t until several floors later that he finally noticed something was off: the air had become too still, the skin on the back of his neck prickled uncomfortably, and he froze in place, because _there was someone behind him…_

“I have to wonder, do you have the memory of a goldfish, or are you just stupid?” a voice asked, and Akira felt something hard press against the back of his head.

As quickly as fear had gripped him, it dissipated, and Akira let out a shaky breath. He couldn’t be 100% sure without looking, but with _that_ tone of voice – and the way he spoke as if he were familiar with Akira – there was no way this could be anyone else.

“…let’s pretend I’m stupid,” he said.

“Ha! Who’s pretending? Why, they way you were walking around out in the open, it’s like you were _begging_ to be caught…”

Akira turned around, slow but unfazed, to face his assailant. Swathed in that same tattered grey cloak and striped bodysuit, Crow looked as though someone had erased a small part of Mementos and left a dark void in its place, except that this void was also pointing a gun right at Akira’s head. He was smiling – or, well, he was showing his teeth, but the look was too smug to be a proper smile – and something about that expression just made Akira want to provoke him.

“Maybe I was. Looks like it worked, huh?”

Crow growled, his gun still pointed squarely between Akira’s masked eyes. “Arrogant bastard. I believe I was fairly clear about what would happen the next time I saw you here alone, was I not?”

“Fairly,” Akira agreed. “You gonna kill me, then? Or,” he tapped the side of his head with his finger, “are you gonna drive me insane, instead?”

The statement didn’t seem to upset or even surprise Crow. “You’ve been listening to rumors about me, I see,” he said.

“Just a few.”

“I didn’t peg you as the type to listen to idle gossip, Joker.”

“Only if it’s interesting.” Akira slipped his hands into his pockets and leaned back on one leg, trying to look casual. “So… is any of it true?”

Crow smiled sharply. “Would you like to find out?”

“I’ll pass.”

Crow sighed and stowed his gun away now that Akira had effectively called his bluff. “Then what _are_ you doing here, Joker? I have a hard time believing you came here simply to makes jokes at my expense.”

That was the question of the hour, wasn’t it? Akira was hardly sure himself. He had no particular reason to seek out Crow other than simple curiosity, but was that really a good enough reason to go looking for trouble…?

Crow looked restless, his lips turning down in an increasingly-irritated frown, so finally Akira blurted out the first thing that came to mind: “Do you want to train together?”

“Do I – what?” Crow stared at him, a look of genuine shock crossing his face.

“You wanna train? Spar, maybe?” Akira repeated, nodding his head towards the stairs leading further down. “I’m bored, and you seem like you know what you’re doing, so…”

“I–!” Crow stared at him incredulously. “I have a _job_ to do today; I don’t have time to play around with you…”

“Who’s playing?” Akira asked. “Take me with you, then. Let me verify those rumors for myself.”

“…absolutely not.”

“C’mon. You told me you don’t know how to change hearts, right? Well I don’t know how you do… whatever it is that you do. Show me, and I’ll teach you how to change hearts. Fair’s fair, right?”

“You have no idea what you’re asking right now,” Crow said, his voice laced with such cold fury that Akira was momentarily taken aback, and then he turned sharply, taking a few steps towards the stairs.

“You want to see that badly? …fine. Come, then. See if I care.”

Akira barely stopped to think before following.

Once they were on the move, Crow did not slow down for him, nor did he seem at all interested in conversation, pausing only occasionally to check his phone – and when he did, Akira caught a glimpse of the Meta-nav app, identical in every way to the one Akira used. How strange… if Crow had the same kind of technology as the rest of the Thieves, could it mean their powers originated from the same source?

Akira was so caught up considering this new possibility that he failed to notice the shadow lurking just in front of the exit platform; it was only through Crow’s good sense to grab him by the shoulder and pull him to a halt that he didn’t go crashing into an enemy… again.

“There’s a pest in our way,” Crow announced. “Or didn’t you notice?”

“Right,” Akira said, instinctively reaching for his dagger. “I noticed. Are we gonna fight it?”

“That depends. Are you just going to get in the way?”

Akira scoffed, lowering his voice to a whisper when the shadow turned its head, searching for the unexplained noise. “I’m plenty strong. Remember? You said so yourself.”

“Then _please,_” Crow whispered back, gesturing to the shadow with an exaggerated sweep of his arm, “walk headfirst into the shadow, Joker. Show me your strength.”

By now, the shadow had all but spotted them; any more of this, and they’d be ambushed for sure. Akira adjusted his grip on his dagger and said to Crow, “You’re kind of a dick, you know that?” before leaping from cover and bringing his blade down onto the shadow’s face. His aim was true, but it was still a clearly telegraphed attack, and the four feathery Tengu that spawned from the shadow were on guard and prepared for battle, dodging Akira’s first strike with relative ease.

Crow appeared at Akira’s side, quickly surveyed the battlefield, and sneered at the enemy.

“How pathetic,” he said, stretching his arm out and opening his hand.

Akira waited for Loki’s arrival, but it never came; instead, an entirely new Persona appeared at Crow’s side, and it was all Akira could do to keep his mouth from falling open in slack-jawed surprise. Of course, Crow had _said_ he could summon more than one Persona, but with how heavily he had favored Loki before, Akira just assumed he never bothered to summon anyone else.

This new Persona was Loki’s polar opposite in almost every conceivable way: where Loki was lithe and seemed to be more liquid than solid, this Persona was as broad and solid as a boulder, sporting white and blue in contrast to Loki’s black and red, with the letters “RH” emblazoned in shining gold on his chest. The Persona readied his weapon, a feathered longbow that seemed to be nearly as long as Akira was tall, and when he fired, a burst of radiant light bloomed from the arrow, catching the enemy off-guard. As the spell faded, Akira saw that every single Tengu had been knocked to the ground.

“Are you going to _stare_, Joker, or are you going to help?” Crow asked, breezing by Akira with his sword in hand. Instantly, Akira leapt into action, lunging forward and assisting Crow, decimating their fallen foes in record time.

“What was _that_?” Akira asked after the dust had cleared.

Crow, who was sheathing his sword and straightening out one of his belts, frowned at this. “I told you I could use more than one Persona, did I not?” he asked. “Or did you not believe me?”

“I believed you,” Akira said. “It’s just, he’s, y’know… after Loki, I sort of expected…”

“I – I don’t owe you an explanation,” Crow snapped. “He is my second Persona. Accept it.”

“Okay,” Akira said, holding his palms up to placate the suddenly irate Crow. “I was just surprised, that's all.”

Crow pursed his lips and said nothing, opting instead to pull out his phone and briefly check the app. “We have to head a little further in,” he said.

“Right. Lead the way.”

As if they’d never been interrupted at all, they fell back into their silent exploration, veering off the well-worn subway tunnels into a maze of smaller, craggier alcoves – the kind of place where the shadows were all humanoid and largely docile… provided you didn't try to get too close.

During the last leg of their trip, Crow was all but staring at his phone while he walked, tracking his target until he had pinpointed its exact location. When he finally stopped, they were facing an alleyway of sorts, inside of which stood the shadow of a man in a black business suit. He was perfectly ordinary – plain, even – but one look at Crow’s face told Akira this was his target.

“Stay back,” Crow said, holding his arm out in front of Akira. “This shadow’s strength is far inferior to mine, so I won’t need your backup; however, we’ll need to make a quick exit, so be prepared to run.”

_Ominous,_ Akira thought, but he did as he was told, hanging back while Crow approached the shadow. He did not, as Akira had expected, attack it immediately; instead, they appeared to be having a conversation. It wasn’t terribly different from the way the Thieves handled a change of heart, though whether Crow was attempting to reason with the shadow or squeeze it for information, Akira couldn’t be sure.

After exchanging a few tense words, the shadow let out a guttural scream, splitting in two and transforming into a bright blue demon. This did not seem to concern Crow in the slightest – indeed, he had obviously _expected_ things to turn sour, given the way Loki appeared on the field in an instant, ready for combat. This shadow was no match for Crow, who was aggressive and completely uncompromising in battle, pressing every advantage he could find and allowing the shadow no reprieve, though Akira couldn’t sense the sort of vicious enthusiasm he’d felt while fighting beside Crow against those Slimes. He wasn't enjoying himself here – this was purely business.

Finally, with one particularly effective strike from Crow’s blade, the shadow fell to the ground, reverting back to its human form, and Akira held his breath as Crow stalked forward. He hadn't asked Crow about the nature of his “job” – he wasn't sure Crow would have told him even if he had – and he wondered if he wasn’t about to witness a human shadow’s death.

Loki reappeared in the air, perching atop his sword and grinning his huge, unnerving smile, showing off far too many teeth for Akira’s liking, and as Crow spoke, Loki pointed his sword at the hapless shadow, bathing him in a deep crimson miasma that distorted his colors, turning the man jet black all over.

The shadow, which had been trembling and begging for its life not five seconds prior, suddenly stilled. Crow sheathed his sword, dismissed Loki, and leapt back several meters as the shadow managed to stand. It now wore a pair of crazed, pure-white eyes, and Akira realized he wasn’t watching the beginning of a mental shutdown, but that of a psychotic break.

Crow clearly did not intend to stick around for the aftermath, running nearly full-speed back towards Akira. “Go,” he commanded, taking Akira by the shoulder and shoving him forward.

Akira stumbled briefly before he was able to match Crow’s pace. A dozen questions flooded his mind, but now did not seem to be the time for conversation, so Akira pushed those thoughts away and simply ran. They ran and ran, longer than Akira thought himself able, the tunnels bleeding together until Akira lost track of their location. His lungs were burning when they finally stopped to rest in a barren safe room several floors away.

At first, neither spoke. Akira wasn’t sure what he wanted to say, if anything, and Crow eyed him suspiciously. He looked sharper than usual, his face darkened by his serious intent, as if he was daring Akira to speak his mind.

“That shadow… you turned him berserk. Right?” Akira asked.

“…that’s right,” Crow said.

“It’s… something Loki can do,” Akira continued cautiously. “Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t do it. Right?”

“Very clever.” Crow’s eyes flashed and before Akira could process the movement, he’d stepped up into Akira’s personal space, the pointed tip of his mask threateningly close to Akira’s face. “Well, Joker? What do you think now? You’ve only seen a fraction of my abilities, but you know I’m capable of much more. So tell me, are you horrified? Enraged? Do I _disgust_ you?”

Akira was taken aback by the note of searing hatred that permeated Crow’s question, even while Crow’s face remained utterly devoid of emotion.

“It’s not quite as dramatic as I expected,” Akira admitted.

“…I see.”

Suddenly, Crow stepped away. He looked towards the stairs and began to walk, though his pace was slow, his chest still heaving in the aftermath of their sprint, and Akira easily fell into step beside him.

“On shadows, the change is usually minimal,” Crow said. “It will have a compounding effect in the real world, however.”

“What’s going to happen to that guy?” Akira asked.

“I don’t know, exactly. The effects of a berserk shadow – what the media has termed “psychotic breakdowns” – seem to vary from individual to individual. They may simply lose consciousness for a time, or they may lash out and become violent… I’m only speculating at this point, but I assume it is based on their own personality and inclinations; that is, whatever they end up doing would be dictated by their own hearts.”

“So you’re making them ruin their lives of their own volition, essentially,” Akira surmised. “Seems pretty cruel.”

“Oh, I’m the cruel one, am I?” Crow asked, his voice taking on a defensive edge. “And what about your own methods? Forcing people to have a change of heart, to publicly confess their crimes, to live with the consequences… their minds will never be the same again. In a way, couldn’t you say your methods are even crueler than mine?”

Akira opened his mouth to respond, but found he had no rebuttal.

“Food for thought, isn’t it?” Crow asked. “…say what you will about me, but don’t try to pretend you have the moral high ground just because you stop short of murder.”

Murder… yes, Akira supposed that was the most accurate term for assassinating a human’s shadow. Any fight with a shadow had the potential to turn deadly, as Morgana had warned them, but to purposely seek that outcome… Akira took a surreptitious glance at Crow. He hadn’t hesitated at all to turn that shadow berserk, but would he be so cavalier when it was time to kill one, instead? If the shadows were to be believed – and if the news reports about “mental shutdowns” were what Akira thought them to be – then he must have already done it at least once…

Yet somehow, Akira felt that the person walking beside him wasn’t anything like the Black Mask spoken about in the shadows’ rumors. This Crow projected an aura not of mindless violence, but of steadfast determination… and deep, pervasive melancholy.

The next time Akira looked over, Crow was already watching him.

“You’re so transparent,” he said, although the contempt Akira had expected to hear was mysteriously absent – in fact, Crow sounded quite weary. “Why don’t you just ask it, already?”

It took Akira another half-dozen floors to work up the courage. It was only as they climbed the final set of stairs, the lobby of Mementos nearly in their sight, that Akira turned to Crow and asked,

“Killing a shadow… is it hard?”

“No.”

The immediacy with which Crow responded was startling in its own right, and the unwavering certainty in his tone even more so. “Do you recall those Tengu we killed earlier?” he asked.

Akira nodded. He could easily remember the sensation of slicing his dagger through the Tengus’ bodies, the way the blade’s edge caught only briefly before sliding smoothly, effortlessly through their flesh, like he was cutting through thin air.

“It’s the same… it’s exactly the same as that. The disconnect between my actions and their consequences is immense.” Crow turned his eyes to the ceiling. “It’s _frightening_ how easy it is. The first time is the hardest. After that… it’s nothing.”

It didn’t seem as though he was boasting. It sounded, if anything, like a _warning_.

“Well… thanks,” Akira said. “For showing me, I mean.”

“Thanks,” Crow repeated. A fleeting, joyless smile crossed his face. “To think you’d thank me for something like that.”

Akira shrugged. “It was new information. I’m glad to know.” He kicked at a rock on the ground and then took a look at his phone. It was late… Morgana was really going to kill him at this rate. “Anyway,” he said, “I’ll leave you alone now, so–”

“Wait.”

A hand closed around his wrist, Crow’s claws pressing against Akira’s thick jacket sleeve.

“…come back next week,” Crow said. “Show me how you change a heart. You promised.”

Had he? Akira remembered offering as much, but at the time, Crow had seemed uninterested, barely even acknowledging what Akira had to say. Surprising, then, to hear him bring it up now…

Akira turned, pulling his arm from Crow’s grip.

“Okay,” he said. “When?”

“How soon can you secure a target?”

Akira paused, trying to recall if they’d received any requests from the Phan-site lately. Even if they hadn’t, Mishima could probably scrounge up a target before the weekend was over – and surely he would leap at the chance to help Akira, especially with a personal request like this.

“Probably Monday, if you want,” Akira said.

“Monday… all right.” Crow straightened his back, suddenly all business. “I’ll meet you here, then – after school lets out, I presume?”

“Yeah. Give me an hour,” Akira said – _an hour to ditch my watchdog of a cat_ – “but I’ll be here.”

“Okay,” Crow said. He nodded resolutely and began to walk away, turning only briefly to look over his shoulder and add,

“…you’d better.”  


* * *


	3. Follow the Leads

* * *

  
Akira was starting to forget what the word “quiet” meant. Leblanc’s attic was never truly silent, of course, not when it was perched above the café, protected by only the bare minimum of insulation and with no door to speak of, but even at night, as he lay in bed and tried to fall asleep, Akira’s mind whirred with noise.

Three… he only had three Personas with him right now. Ordinarily, he could keep that many under control without much trouble, but tonight, the denizens of Shibuya were particularly unsettled, their thoughts abuzz with all the gruesome details of the latest psychotic breakdown to plague the city.

It had been all over the news today: the president of a small accounting firm had simply gone mad, tearing through his office like a rampaging animal, breaking furniture, destroying personal documents, and assaulting his employees when they attempted to rein him in. It had taken multiple security officers to pacify him, and although no one had been seriously injured, the whole event called the firm’s integrity into question, not to mention the dozens of legal documents that had been destroyed… it was a mess that would take some time to clean up.

Akira frowned up into the darkness. He knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this accountant was the same man Crow had turned berserk the other day, yet knowing the man’s identity only made the whole situation more confusing. What could Crow, who was by all accounts just a high school student, possibly have to gain from shutting down some random company?

The thin futon mattress pressed uncomfortably against Akira’s ribs, forcing him to twist around and lie on his left side instead, rustling the bed sheet and rousing Morgana from his catnap. He blinked, his eyes gleaming in the dim light, and stood up, padding over to sit beside Akira.

“Hey. You seem restless.”

“Yeah.” Akira pressed a few fingers to his temple and massaged little circles into his skin. “My Personas are keeping me up.”

Morgana made a pained noise, his ears drooping behind his head. “I’m sorry… I really had no idea the extent of your powers, did I?”

“It’s okay,” Akira said. “It’s not your fault. You’re still trying to regain your memory, too.”

“I guess,” Morgana said, more to placate Akira than anything else. “Um… what’s it like? Having all those Personas in your head.”

Akira half-shrugged into his pillow. “It’s… strange. Sometimes they’re so quiet I can forget they’re there, but… I guess something’s bothering people tonight.”

He barely held back a disgruntled sigh. Perhaps he should have been grateful to get a glimpse into other people’s minds like this – to become connected to society in a way he couldn’t as a delinquent-branded student – but at times it simply made him feel even more isolated, like he was constantly eavesdropping on a conversation in which he could never take part. The fact that he couldn’t even shut out the voices on command simply exacerbated the issue.

“Say… do you think we could tap into that?” Morgana asked. “I mean, those Personas you picked up in Mementos are part of the public’s subconscious, right? So if they’re all worrying about something, that could point us to our next target.”

“Huh.” Akira had never thought of it that way. “Maybe…” He flipped over onto his back and closed his eyes, allowing his Personas to appear before him again. For a moment, his mind was filled with nothing but thoughts of the accountant’s psychotic breakdown, but he allowed that panic to flow through him, and then, slowly, new worries began to emerge:

_“Someone my friend knows got blackmailed…” _

_“Did somebody really get kidnapped?” _

_“Apparently you can never shake ‘em off… They said it’s hell.”_

_ “I hear they get really aggressive…”_

These were the only coherent thoughts his Personas brought to him; everything else was a mismatch of disjointed words and feelings – panic, mostly, about money or personal safety, but also hopelessness, and a single word, one so faint that it seemed as though people were afraid to even _think_ it: mafia.

“Sounds like a lot of people are being blackmailed,” Akira said. “Students, even… and the mafia might be involved.”

“What?” Morgana’s eyes went wide. “Really?”

“I guess. But that might just be a rumor.”

Morgana kneaded the futon roughly with his paws. “A crime lord would make an impressive target for the Phantom Thieves, don’t you think?”

“Impressive for sure… if that’s really what’s going on.”

“Let’s talk with the others about it tomorrow,” Morgana suggested when Akira declined to elaborate. “We don’t have to pursue it, but looking into the blackmail might make a good lead anyway.” Akira hummed in vague approval, and they were quiet for a long moment before Morgana added, “…it might even help you. Y’know… if we take care of what’s bothering people, maybe your Personas will leave you alone.”

Akira tilted his head back so he could look at Morgana, who had his tail curled tightly around his legs, and felt a sudden surge of appreciation for his friend. Despite all his troubles, Morgana was still committed to helping the Phantom Thieves – to helping Akira. He reached out to scratch Morgana under his chin, and to his surprise, the cat allowed it.

“Maybe you’re right. Thanks, Morgana.”

With a pleased purr, Morgana walked carefully over Akira’s shoulder, settling himself on the far edge of the pillow so that his tail just barely touched Akira’s head. “Do you think you can fall asleep now?” he asked.

Akira took a deep breath and tried to relax his muscles. He _did_ feel better after talking through it, his Personas seeming to calm down now that they’d had the chance to voice their anxieties, and – though perhaps this was a quality of all cats – Akira felt soothed by Morgana’s presence, the voices in his head growing muffled behind a layer of pleasant fog as Morgana’s rhythmic purring lulled him to sleep at last.  


* * *

  
After school the next day, Akira gathered up Ann and Ryuji and dragged them out to a lonely part of Shujin’s courtyard to share what he and Morgana had discussed. It was pouring outside, the rainy season now in full swing, which left the whole courtyard deserted, while the noisy raindrops hitting the roof provided the perfect cover to speak about delicate topics like the Phantom Thieves.

“Oh yeah, I feel like I’ve heard about that,” Ann said once Akira was done recounting his and Morgana’s conversation. “A bunch of people suddenly got a really lucrative part-time job or something…”

“I heard that, too, ‘cept it ended up being something real shady,” Ryuji said.

“If the mob is involved, there’s no doubt it’s shady business,” Morgana said. “And if you two have heard about it, then it’s probably more than just a rumor.”

“You think it’s mafia stuff, though?” Ann asked. “That feels a little out of our league…”

“No way!” Ryuji said, an excited glint in his eyes. “Dude, can you imagine if we took down a _mafia boss?_ People’d have to believe in us for sure!”

“It _would_ be pretty cool,” Morgana agreed. “No one could deny our justice if we changed the heart of someone as vile as a mobster, especially one who targets high school students.”

“I just wish I’d been able to learn more,” Akira said. “We’ll be starting from nothing.”

“I mean, was it really any different with Madarame, though?” Ryuji asked. “And at least we know there’re some victims at Shujin this time, so findin’ leads shouldn’t be so hard…”

“_If_ people are willing to talk,” Morgana said, flipping his tail thoughtfully. “And a mob boss would be careful not to give out any personal details. Akira may be right… this will be far tougher to identify that our previous two targets.”

“Still…” Ann looked down, twisting the end of her ponytail around her finger. “This isn’t the kind of thing I can just ignore, y’know?”

No one replied – there was no need. They were all in agreement.

“We don’t need to rush,” Morgana said. “If we want to do this right, we–”

Before he could finish his thought, however, Morgana cut himself off, meowing faintly at something behind them and leaping into Akira’s open messenger bag, hiding himself away.

“Morgana?” Ann asked, twisting around to look over her shoulder. When she caught sight of what had startled Morgana, she immediately dropped her sunny expression. “Um, excuse you? We’re trying to have a conversation here.”

Standing in the walkway, half attempting to hide herself behind the corner, was another student, a girl with dark brown hair. Though he had never spoken to her, Akira recognized her instantly; it would be impossible for anyone at Shujin not to know the identity of the student council president.

“Oh, please don’t let me interrupt,” Makoto said, holding up her hands and stepping into the gazebo now that she’d been caught. “That was quite the conversation you were having just now… I couldn’t help but be curious.”

“Don’t you have anything better to do?” Ryuji asked. He got to his feet and stood shoulder-to-shoulder beside Ann, the two of them radiating an intense distrust that was palpable even to Akira as they formed an impassable wall in front of Makoto.

“There’s no need to be so hostile,” Makoto said, putting on a disarming smile. “You’re discussing the scam that’s been going around Shibuya, aren’t you? A fair number of students have come to the student council with just that kind of concern, you know.”

“Oh yeah?” Ann asked. “Like they came to you about Kamoshida, right?”

“That’s—!” Makoto physically recoiled like Ann’s question had struck a nerve, and she took a moment to compose herself before speaking again. “The – the Kamoshida incident was a… unique situation for the faculty…”

Ryuji scoffed. “That’s a real nice way of sayin’ it.”

Makoto brushed off his comment much more easily than she had Ann’s. “At any rate, these scammers have no connection to the school administration, so it would be much easier for us to act if we were to find a lead.” She swept her gaze from Ryuji to Ann to Akira, directing her next statement to him specifically. “It would seem you and I are on the same side. If you know something, it would really be in everyone’s best interest for you to share it.”

“Well, sorry to disappoint, but we’re clueless,” Ann cut in before Akira could even think of a response.

“Just a buncha dumb troublemakers, right, class prez?” Ryuji asked.

Makoto’s mouth parted in shock, and she sighed, tucking a tuft of hair behind her ears. “Yes… you three certainly make an odd group, you know. And all this trouble only started after _your_ arrival,” she said with a pointed look at Akira. “You may want to be careful about drawing undue attention to yourselves. All right?”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned on her heel and retreated back towards the school.

“Was that a _threat?_“ Ryuji yelped, barely managing to keep his thoughts to himself long enough for Makoto to walk out of earshot.

“Don’t worry about it; she’s all talk,” Ann said, waving her hand. “But… if people have been complaining about this to the student council, then I definitely want to do something about it. There’s no way _she_ will, after all.”

“Well, what do you guys think?” Morgana asked, popping back out of Akira’s bag. “Should we do some investigating?”

Ryuji sighed and shook his head. “Can’t today – I promised my mom I’d come home and help with some chores.”

“Aww, you’re such a good son!” Ann ruffled his hair affectionately, while Ryuji tried to swat her hand away, grumbling indignantly when he failed. “Well, it’s fine. We probably shouldn’t do this without talking to Yusuke, anyway,” she said, turning her attention from Ryuji to Akira. “So what are you gonna do today, Akira? Nothing _suspicious_, I hope.”

Ann grinned, and for the briefest of moments, Akira’s heart stopped. Had he been found out? Surely there was no way Ann could know about his plans for the afternoon… he’d been very careful to cover his tracks. Mishima was easy enough to goad into keeping quiet – keeping a secret for the leader of the Phantom Thieves was a great honor – and Ann didn’t seem the type to check the Phan-site obsessively; she wouldn’t have seen the calling card Mishima sent out…

But then Ann threw a look over her shoulder in the direction Makoto had just left, and it all clicked into place.

“Me, suspicious? Never,” Akira said, affecting a shocked expression that made Ann giggle. “Nah, but really… I’m not sure. Go work at Rafflesia, maybe.”

“The flower shop?” Morgana asked, wrinkling his nose. “Ugh, I’ll pass. That place makes me all sneezy.”

“Aww,” Ann cooed, scratching Morgana behind the ears. “You want me to take you back to Leblanc? It’d be a waste for Akira to go all the way home and then back here.”

“Would you? _Really?_“ Morgana asked, his eyes lighting up. “I, uh… I mean, I think that would be very pragmatic. Good thinking, Lady Ann.”

Ann laughed. “Whatever you say. Here, hop in my bag,” she said, shifting her backpack off of her shoulder and holding it open. “Sorry; it probably won’t be as comfy as Akira’s…”

“Oh, not at all!” Morgana said, happily leaping from bag to bag. “Lady Ann, I’m certain it will be the most comfortable trip I’ve ever taken.”

“Yeah? We’ll see,” Ann said. She closed her bag enough that Morgana wouldn’t fall out and then turned to Akira. “Well, I guess we’re headed off, then. See ya!” she chirped, waving goodbye.

“I gotta split, too,” Ryuji said. “You wanna walk to the station together?”

“Sure,” Akira said, shouldering his much lighter messenger bag and opening his umbrella as they left the protection of the gazebo.

The walk to the subway station always seemed twice as long when it was raining, and it was pushing four pm by the time Akira waved Ryuji off at the Ginza line and returned to the surface. He slipped his hand into his pocket, his fingers closing around his phone. Ordinarily, he would have waited to activate the Meta-nav until he was somewhere more secluded, but today, everyone he passed had their heads bowed against the pouring rain, paying him no mind as he stepped into an empty alcove and disappeared from view.  


* * *

  
“You’re late.”

Crow was sitting cross-legged on top of a turnstile, tapping his claws against the rusting metal when Akira finally reached the lobby of Mementos. His admonishment echoed throughout the cavernous room alongside the sound of thunderous rain, and as Akira approached, Crow stared disapprovingly at him from across the sharp slope of his nose.

“Maybe you’re just early,” Akira said. “Were you excited to see me?”

“Don’t be stupid.” Crow pushed himself off his perch, landing nimbly on the ground in front of Akira. “Aren’t we here to do a job? Don’t tell me you failed to acquire a target.”

“I didn’t fail,” Akira said. He had to give Mishima credit: he really came through, as if he’d pulled this request out of thin air. “He’s not on the scale of Madarame or anything, but…”

Instantly, Crow looked more alert, standing up straight and nodding once. “That’s fine; I expected as much. May I ask about the nature of the target?”

“It’s a guy who’s been using his mother’s illness to gain sympathy from his friends and coworkers,” Akira said. “Apparently he even set up an online fundraiser under the guise of paying off medical bills, while he just pocketed the cash.”

“I see,” Crow said, cupping his chin thoughtfully in his hand. “It’s certainly deplorable behavior, but not so extreme as to spawn a Palace, I suppose.”

“Pretty much,” Akira said, pulling out his phone and double-checking the coordinates of the man’s shadow. “He’s down pretty far. Are you ready?”

“Please,” Crow scoffed, flashing Akira a sharp-toothed smirk. “Remember who you’re dealing with, Joker.”

Though for all Crow’s bravado, he still kept his guard up – he knew as well as Akira did that the torrential rain made Mementos a treacherous place – and he didn’t mock Akira for his cautious behavior. Today, he had only Crow as back-up, not the four Thieves he was used to, and he had no idea the strength of the target’s shadow. Better, then, to conserve his energy for the fight he knew lie ahead of him…

With careful timing and a little bit of luck, they avoided most of the shadows on their way down, reaching their destination in a little under an hour. The cavernous tunnel felt eerily reminiscent of the cave in which they’d found Crow’s target the other day: it was dark and craggy, with a lone, humanoid shadow standing in the middle. He was nicely dressed, though not as nicely as the accountant’s shadow had been, and he had a cell phone pressed up to his ear, talking to a ghost and seemingly without a care in the world.

“This is him?” Crow asked, peering around the edge of the cave.

“That’s him.”

“I see. Well? What’s the protocol here?”

Crow already had fire in his eyes, and when Akira placed a hand on his shoulder, he could feel the tension Crow carried there.

“Let’s just try talking to him first,” Akira said.

The shadow had been standing in a relatively relaxed position, but as the pair approached him, he stood up straight, already on the defensive.

“What do you want?” he asked, looking the pair of them up and down. “Don’t tell me… you’re the ones who posted that damn message?”

Akira opened his mouth to respond, but the shadow barreled on before he even had the chance:

“You don’t understand!” the shadow barked, shoving his phone into his pocket so that he could menace them with both fists. “All my friends have become so successful, while I’m stuck working a dead-end job… I just wanted people to sympathize with me! And a little extra cash… if they’re willing to donate it, it’s not like they really needed it, right?”

“How pathetic,” Crow said, a note of genuine contempt in his voice. “Taking money from your sick mother…”

“She – she’s fine!” the shadow said. “We have a great doctor – and my dad’s life insurance policy is paying most of the costs…”

“That’s all the more reason not to lie,” Akira said.

“What do you know? You’re just a kid – you don’t know how the real world works! Fucking brat!” the man yelled, his skin bubbling and churning until he shed his human shape entirely, transforming into a fierce, solid-gold oni.

“Does this usually happen?” Crow asked, taking a step back and readying his sword.

“Usually, yeah,” Akira said. He closed his eyes, and the air rippled around him as Arsène shimmered into existence. “We’ll need to wear him down first, but once we do, we can steal the source of his heart’s distortion – we call it his treasure.”

He thought he heard Crow mutter _“of course you do”_ from under his breath, but he wasn’t sure.

The shadow stomped his foot and roared, causing a wave of red light to waft over his body and settle on his golden armor, making it glow gently in the dim light. Akira frowned.

“His skin looks tough,” he said, “so it might be hard to knock him off balance… loop around back and try to disorient him, and I’ll attack from the front once we have him flanked.”

The orders had slipped from his mouth without conscious effort, so used was Akira to taking up the role of leader, and he paused to consider the possibility that Crow would outright ignore his orders, or perhaps even that he would act completely contrary to them, just to spite Akira for daring to order him around.

Yet Crow did none of these things. He looked Akira in the eye and gave a firm nod before zipping off around the shadow, summoning Loki as he did. A second wave of light passed over the shadow, but it was deep purple this time, and once the mist faded, the oni’s armor had lost its glow. He growled and whipped his head around to face Crow.

_Perfect,_ Akira thought. The oni’s back was now fully turned to Akira, leaving a wide open target for Arsène to hit with his curse magic. Howling in pain, the shadow raged, buffeting Akira and Crow both with a handful of light blows before they had the chance to retaliate.

Across the room, Akira saw Loki materialize for a brief moment, but Crow quickly waved his hand, dismissing him and bringing Robin Hood to the field instead. Crow mimed the action of drawing a bow, and his Persona did the same, aiming his weapon at the oni and piercing his armor with a beam of light.

The shadow snarled and reared back with both arms in the air, prepared to bring them down upon Crow with the full force of his strength. Without stopping to think, Akira summoned Matador, pointing at Crow and imbuing him with heightened dexterity. Perhaps it was unwelcome, considering Loki had a much stronger buff, but the sudden boost in speed allowed Crow to dart out of the way of the oni’s fists without so much as a scratch to show for it.

As the battle progressed, Akira and Crow danced fluidly around the battlefield, dodging the oni’s attacks and playing on each other’s strengths like they had been fighting together for years, and Akira had to wonder – was it due to their shared power? That each of them could wield multiple Personas, did that make them more adaptable, more able to complement each other’s fighting style with grace and ease? Akira couldn’t be sure; he only knew that the fight was as effortless with Crow as it would have been with a full team of four, and in only a matter of minutes, the shadow reverted back to his original form.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” the man chanted, dropping to the ground and pressing his forehead into the gravel.

“Don’t apologize to us,” Akira said. “Apologize to the people you scammed.”

“They’ll hate me… they’ll never forgive me,” the man said. “I’ll be all alone…”

“Maybe. But it’s your mistake. Own it; take responsibility,” Akira said.

“Okay… I’ll try,” the shadow whispered, already turning translucent. After a few more seconds, he was completely gone, leaving behind a glowing sphere, the source of his distorted heart.

“Well, there you have it,” Akira said. He looked at Crow and gestured to the small, floating object. “You wanna take it?”

“This?” Crow squinted at the item suspiciously before snatching it out of the air. “This is his treasure?”

“Yep.”

The object solidified into a small keychain, which Crow flipped over in his palm. “I have never seen an item like this appear in all my time chasing shadows,” he said.

“Yeah, well… most people aren’t going to bare their hidden desires just for fun,” Akira said. “The treasure doesn’t appear until the target thinks it’s in danger of being stolen.”

Crow’s eyes widened like he was putting together the pieces of a particularly convoluted puzzle. “You mean to tell me that’s why you send calling cards? To manifest the treasure in physical form?”

“You got it.”

For a moment, Crow appeared stunned to silence, and then he began to laugh. Unlike the mocking laughter he’d offered Akira before, this laugh seemed genuine: surprised, bright, and practically _delighted_.

“I can’t believe it,” he said. “To think there’s a _reason_ for it…”

“What, did you think we just sent them to be cocky?” Akira asked.

“Frankly, yes, that’s exactly what I thought.” Crow slipped the keychain into his sleeve – did his outfit even have pockets? Akira couldn’t tell – and looked back at Akira. “I see… so this is the benefit of changing hearts. You really are a thief in every sense of the word, aren’t you?”

“Guilty as charged,” Akira said. He gestured for Crow to follow him back into the tunnels; they had no more business here, and the sound of battle tended to attract unwanted attention. “There are other perks to changing hearts, though.”

At this, Crow’s smile faded. “Yes… I suppose so. The public may not have taken to you so readily if your targets turned up dead instead.”

They walked in silence for a long time before Akira finally admitted, “We nearly did kill him, you know. Kamoshida.”

“Oh?” Crow glanced sideways at Akira. “After all you go on about changing hearts, you still considered killing him?”

“Yeah.” Akira could clearly remember the conversation they’d had, Ryuji and Ann and Morgana all huddled around Akira’s table, trying to decide if changing the man’s heart would be worth the risk of causing a mental shutdown… and whether it would really be so bad if he died, after all. “Panther said… she said that living with his guilt would be a fate worse than death.”

“You have a very clever friend,” Crow said, his voice taking on a solemn, gravelly tone. “She’s absolutely right.”

“Yeah. I think so, too.”

“And what of the plagiarist artist?”

“Madarame is an old man,” Akira said, shrugging. “Why bother? He’ll spend the rest of his short life miserable.”

Crow laughed. “You’re quite pragmatic, aren’t you? It’s an admirable trait.”

“Pragmatism goes a long way down here, don’t you think?” Akira asked.

“I can’t disagree with you.”

They trailed off, climbing the last few broken stairs and ascending into the dingy lobby of Mementos. It was a different part of the cognitive subway than usual, and Akira briefly wondered where in Shibuya he’d end up if he were to leave right now. Even more briefly, he wondered if this was where Crow usually arrived – wondered if he could follow him out, and maybe learn a hint as to this stranger’s identity.

(Just as quickly, he discarded that thought. For some reason, it made him uneasy.)

“How intriguing,” Crow hummed, turning to Akira. “You know, given your public M.O., I assumed you’d be some sort of naïve, wide-eyed idealist, but you clearly have your reasons for changing hearts as you do.”

“Uh. Thanks?”

This made Crow laugh again, quick and good-natured. “What I mean to say is… I’ll be back here on Thursday. Not for a job; I just like to keep myself sharp. Come if you like,” he said, shrugging his shoulders, “or don’t. It doesn’t matter either way to me.”

He didn’t wait around for Akira to respond, passing through a broken turnstile and disappearing down the hall – back to his corner of reality, perhaps – but his carefully-worded not-quite invitation stuck with Akira for the rest of the day, even as he returned to Leblanc, where Morgana was still happily snoozing on his futon. Later, when he turned to the Phantom Thieves’ group chat to organize their investigation into the mafia scam, he politely requested they meet up sooner rather than later; he had plans this Thursday.  


* * *

  
Searching for leads on this purported mafia boss was a task truly unlike any of their previous investigations. Kamoshida had been a familiar face to Ryuji and Ann, with months and months of allegations piling up behind him, while with Madarame, one of his former pupils had approached them indirectly through Mishima. This would be the first time the Phantom Thieves were truly striking out on their own, and Akira had to admit now that he was no detective.

After meeting up with Yusuke the next day, the Thieves set about their search, pacing up and down the length of Central Street, sticking their heads in stores and around street corners in search of shady characters to interrogate. It was a warm and breezy afternoon, the streets bustling with students – it _should_ have been the perfect day for some low-life to find a poor victim to prey upon, and yet after more than an hour of wandering, they’d come up with nothing. In desperation, they meandered down to a quieter stretch of road that housed a few less popular shops, where the crowd of pedestrians had thinned and where Akira was more easily able to listen for anything that may have been out of place… yet nothing seemed amiss. Frustrated, he found himself yearning for his third eye – why was it that he could hear his Personas out in reality but couldn’t access any of his other powers? That hardly seemed fair.

“Ugh, it’s like they’re avoiding us on purpose,” Ann said. “Do we look that suspicious?”

“We _are_ a rather large group… we may not be the easiest targets,” Yusuke noted. “Perhaps we need some way to attract this group’s attention?”

“Gosh!” Ryuji said loudly, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking up at the sky. “I sure wish I had a little extra _spending money_ right about now…”

“Hey, hey!” Morgana interrupted, springing up out of Akira’s bag. “Be quiet for a second…” The group fell silent, waiting as Morgana's eyes darted back and forth over the street. “There – look, over there! Isn’t that the girl from the other day?”

Indeed, Makoto _was_ there, walking just a few meters down the street, easy to pick out from a crowd of Shujin students thanks to her white halter top. She was picking her way through the throng of afternoon shoppers – right towards the Thieves – and everyone froze, but after only a few seconds, it became clear that Makoto wasn't looking for _them_; actually, she didn't even seem to notice their presence, quickly veering off the sidewalk towards a lonesome alleyway that was wedged between a derelict grocery shop and a dingy brick wall.

Akira glanced back at the others. This was easily the most suspicious thing they’d seen today, and they nearly tripped over themselves in their haste to follow, scurrying down the road until they had reached the same alley down which Makoto had just disappeared. It loomed in front of them, and when Akira finally peered around the corner, the sight that greeted him was this: three figures standing a row, two wearing Shujin uniforms, and one wearing a conspicuous grey trench coat, a man notably older and bulkier than the students. Makoto had wedged herself in between the younger Shujin student and the hulking stranger, her arm thrown out to shield the boy from harm and her face contorted with rage.

“What the hell…” they heard the strange man growl. “I thought I told you to _keep quiet_ about this, huh?”

“Oh, he didn't have to say anything,” Makoto said. The man glared at the student from over Makoto's head, and the boy trembled in fear. “You weren't exactly subtle, dragging a high schooler into an alleyway in broad daylight… any sane person would be suspicious.”

“Who the hell're you?” the strange man snapped, turning his eyes on Makoto instead. “This is between me ‘n him, so why don’t you mind your own business?”

The mafia punk had his hands up, and he stepped forward, using his size to try and intimidate Makoto, who wasn't fazed in the slightest. She squared up, waiting for him to lurch even closer, and when he finally did, she reared back and punched him clean in the nose, following through with her strike so thoroughly that she staggered the man, who howled in pain and clutched his face.

“Um,” Morgana said. “Did she just…?”

“Uh huh,” Ann said.

“That’s… bad, right?” Ryuji asked.

“Indeed,” Yusuke said. “Should we…?”

“We should,” Akira agreed, already on his way into the alley.

“Go! Go now!” Makoto yelled, waving her hand frantically at the student, who didn't need to be told twice. He rushed out of the alley and right past the quartet of Thieves as if they weren’t even there, leaving Akira and the others plenty of room to circle up around Makoto protectively. The mobster snarled, looking from Makoto to the four newcomers, and decided that – despite being an adult – he didn't like the odds of five on one, especially after he’d been so thoroughly sucker-punched. He twisted his head to the side and spat a little blood onto the ground.

“You fucked up, brat,” he declared, jabbing a finger in Makoto’s direction. “You’re on our shit list now! If I were you, I'd watch my fuckin’ back.”

Clutching his face, he bolted from the alleyway, and Makoto stood stock-still, unable to turn and watch him go – unable, it would seem, even to acknowledge that she was no longer alone.

“Hey, uh… Niijima-senpai…?” Ann asked, touching her gently on the shoulder.

This snapped Makoto back to reality, and the full ramifications her actions hit her all at once, her whole body shaking with hysterical tremors as she fought to breathe, taking in giant gulps of air. Akira placed an arm around her shoulders, and instantly she fell against him as if he were a human crutch.

“C’mon, we gotta get outta here,” Ryuji said, already edging his way back to the front of the alleyway.

“Yes,” Yusuke said. “It would be unwise to linger, especially if that man attempts to return with back-up.”

“Let’s go to the diner,” Akira said. “It’s close, and it’s always crowded. It’ll be easy to hide there.”

Cautiously, the Thieves escorted Makoto up the narrow staircase to the Central Street diner, where – as Akira had predicted – there were dozens of other Shujin students, all identically dressed: the perfect place to hide in plain sight. They eased Makoto into a booth seat next to the wall, with Ann to her right, while Yusuke, Ryuji, and Akira squeezed into the seats across from them. Once they were settled, Akira flagged down a waitress, ordering a coffee for himself and a fruit tea for Makoto; Ann ordered the same, while Ryuji got himself a steak and Yusuke asked for water, and then the group was finally left alone.

By now, Makoto had calmed significantly, and aside from the occasional hiccup, she looked almost normal, though to say the mood at the table was still awkward would have been a grave understatement.

“…I’m sorry,” Makoto said, her voice watery and broken, like an unshed tear. She stared at her hands, unable to look any of them in the eye.

“It’s okay,” Akira was quick to say, but Makoto shook her head.

“It’s not. I’m so stupid.” She sniffed, rubbing away a lingering tear with the heel of her palm. “But I was so tired… so sick of being useless. I wanted to act for once, instead of waiting for orders like usual… and look where it got me.”

Ryuji scratched his head and looked at the ceiling. “Hey, you’re not… _useless_, c’mon. I mean, you’re student council president…”

“Please, spare me the platitudes,” Makoto said, in a much firmer voice. “You don’t have to pretend to like me.”

“Hey, I’m not–!” Ryuji began, only to be interrupted by the arrival of their food. Conversation took a pause while their items were doled out, and when Ryuji spoke again, it was in a much quieter voice. “Look, forget about that. What you just did… that ain’t useless.”

“Indeed,” Yusuke said. “Perhaps this means little coming from a stranger like me, but my first impression of you is that you are a woman willing to confront a great foe to protect your classmates… an act worthy of admiration.”

Makoto’s expression grew ever so slightly less somber.

“You… looking at your uniform, you must attend Kosei, right?” she asked.

“That is correct.”

“I see.” Makoto took a deep breath and finally turned her attention to the fruit tea in front of her, tugging it close and taking a sip. It must have been to her liking, because she took the glass from the table and drained a quarter of the drink in one go.

“You did something reckless,” Akira said, “but you did it to help someone in need. You did the right thing.”

Makoto swallowed and looked at him curiously. “Um… Kurusu-kun, isn’t it?” she asked. Akira nodded. “Do you remember when I caught you discussing these scams the other day, how I mentioned that several students have come to me with concerns about their friends? Well… after we spoke, I approached Principal Kobayakawa with my concerns.”

Her eyebrows furrowed like she was in pain. “However… he told me in no uncertain terms to drop the issue. In fact, lately he’s been of only one mind: he wants to put a stop to the Phantom Thieves rumors. He’s even enlisted me to spy on the student body for him.”

Ryuji nearly choked on a chunk of steak. “For – for real?” he asked.

“Mm. But I can’t – I can’t see how that is a more pressing issue!” Makoto said. As she spoke, her rage built, and she gripped her tea so strongly the glass appeared close to shattering. “The Phantom Thieves are ostensibly on the side of justice, while these… these _criminals_ are extorting our own students, and he won't do a thing about it!”

“Hey, uh… it sounds like you’re really goin’ through a lot, huh?” Ryuji asked, speaking in the kind of soft voice one would use if they were afraid of spooking an injured animal.

“Don’t tell me to calm down!” Makoto snapped.

“That’s not what we said…” Morgana muttered from beneath the table.

Ann, who had remained notably silent since arriving at the diner, now took a deep breath. “Niijima-senpai…” she said, “you really had no idea, huh? About Kamoshida…”

“No one confides in me,” Makoto said, shaking her head. “I could only rely on what I heard in passing… but whenever I confronted Principal Kobayakawa, he just told me to drop it. Without any evidence, I couldn’t do anything, and I started to wonder if I was just being paranoid.”

Ann placed a hand on Makoto’s shoulder, and she nearly jumped. “Listen, I… I know I kinda got on your case about that earlier, but I think you did the right thing today,” Ann said. “Honestly, that was pretty cool of you, senpai.”

“I agree,” Yusuke said, “but still, you may wish to be cautious for the next few days… in case that man starts looking to retaliate.”

“Yes… yes, you’re correct,” Makoto said. “I suppose I cannot take back my actions now, so I’ll just have to accept the consequences.”

“Um, do you want us to, like, walk you home or something…?” Ryuji asked.

“That won’t be necessary,” Makoto assured him. “Besides, I don’t wish for you to be involved any more than you already are.”

“Okay,” Akira said. “But we’re invested in this too, you know. If you decide you need some allies… let us know.”

The others all nodded agreeably, and as Makoto looked around the table, she finally managed to smile.

“Okay… thank you. I’ll remember that.”

They finished their food in relative quiet, and then, after quickly scanning Central Street and deciding there were no shady figures to be found, the group at last parted ways with Makoto.

“Man,” Ryuji said, watching her leave. “I’ve never seen Miss President act like that before…”

“She has conviction,” Yusuke said, “though… perhaps not the best impulse control.”

“Hey… you might want to try and gain her trust,” Morgana said. “A person like that could make a valuable ally.”

“The fact that she has been ordered to investigate the Phantom Thieves is somewhat troubling, however,” Yusuke said.

“We’ll be careful,” Akira said. “But Morgana’s right. She could have more resources than we do. If we want to find this guy’s name…”

“Yeah! That’s the spirit!” Morgana flung his paws over Akira’s shoulder and grinned. “So learn to play nice, okay, Ryuji?”

“H-hey!” Ryuji exclaimed. “C'mon, man, what's that supposed to mean…”  


* * *

  
Perhaps it was little more than wishful thinking on Akira's part to hope that things would quiet down for a few days, to hope they would be granted some kind of reprieve before being forced to leap from the frying pan and into the fryer, but the final bell had hardly rung the next day before Makoto herself strode into Kawakami's homeroom, making a beeline for Akira and Ann, who were still in the process of packing up their things for the day.

“Um… hey, Niijima-senpai!” Ann called out, a twinge of nervousness in her voice.

“Takamaki-chan, Kurusu-kun,” Makoto said, nodding curtly to them. She was holding onto the strap of her shoulder bag with white-knuckled strength. “Do you think we could speak privately for a moment?”

Ann and Akira exchanged a look.

“You’re not in trouble,” Makoto added. “…please.”

She spoke the last word in the same kind of broken voice she had used back at the diner, and it was enough for Akira. He tapped Ann on the arm and nodded.

“Uh, sure!” Ann said. “Where to?”

“The student council room.” Makoto said. “There’s no meeting today, and I can lock the door.”

Ann shot Akira a look and mouthed the word _“lock??”_, but still they followed Makoto up to the third floor and into the vacant classroom. The room had once been neatly organized, but now papers were strewn across various flat surfaces, supplies piled up in cluttered groups that had only tangential relation to each other, and even though it was empty, the place felt very small and busy. Makoto pushed some papers aside and cleared a spot on the table, at which she then sat down.

“I, um…”

She sighed, and then she retrieved an envelope from her backpack, placing it delicately on the table, like she was afraid it might combust on contact.

“This was in my apartment’s mailbox yesterday,” she said.

When it became obvious that Makoto wasn’t going to elaborate, Akira picked up the letter and unfolded it, holding it up for Ann to read. It was a convincing mock-up of a medical bill, labeled with Makoto’s full name, her address, the name of Shujin Academy as well as her cram school – the amount of detail was staggering – and at the bottom, a request for three million yen by the middle of July, though to whom she was supposed to pay that money, the letter did not say.

“This is from that mafia guy,” Akira surmised. “He’s blackmailing you?”

“Yes,” Makoto whispered. She covered her eyes with her hands and shuddered visibly. “Turn the page.”

Ann did so. Attached to the next page was a photo – clearly taken from afar, a little blurry around the edges, by someone trying not to get caught – of a young woman with long silver hair.

“Who is she?” Akira asked.

“My sister,” Makoto said.

Ann whistled. “Damn, that’s freaky,” she said, handing the letter back to Makoto. “So, uh, not to sound callous or anything, but… why are you showing this to us, Niijima-senpai?”

Makoto sniffled weakly and stared at her hands. “It’s you, isn’t it?” she asked. “You’re… the Phantom Thieves. Aren’t you?”

“Wha-haha, what are you talking about?” Ann asked, shooting Akira a nervous half-smile.

“And if we were?” Akira asked.

“Akira!” Morgana hissed from inside the bag.

“If you were, I’d say… I envy you,” Makoto said. “You were able to find out what Kamoshida was doing and put a stop to it in a way I never could.” She gripped the ransom note tightly in both hands and thrust her arms straight out towards Akira, bowing her head as she did. “If you were, I’d ask for your help. To protect the students here, and to protect Sis… I can’t do it alone. It pains me to admit it, but I’m in over my head…”

Ann threw a look at Akira.

“We, uh… well, we’d have to talk to the others, but…”

“We can look into it,” Akira finished. He looked up at Makoto and asked, “Can I make a copy of this?”

She winced at him. “I would really prefer if you didn’t… but, if you think it’s important…”

“I’ll redact all the identifying details,” Akira promised, already eying the copy machine sitting in the back of the room.

“Okay,” Makoto said. “Thank you for this… thank you.” She took a long breath, and for the first time that afternoon – even if for just a moment – the tension in her shoulders seemed to dissipate.  


* * *

  
“This is worrying,” Yusuke said, frowning down at the copied blackmail letter. “That this group was able to respond so quickly, with such intimate personal details…”

“That’s the mob for you,” Morgana said. “They’re as shady as they come.”

“We gotta go after this guy now, right?” Ryuji asked. “I mean… Niijima-senpai ain’t exactly my favorite person in the world, but no one deserves this, y’know?”

“Yeah,” Ann said. “It’s just… who exactly are we looking for? This letter is totally anonymous.”

“The only thing that stands out to me is this symbol,” Yusuke said, pointing out a small golden insignia adorning the top of the paper. It was printed in shiny gold ink and appeared to depict a stylized pig head, but with the kanji for gold stamped over its nose. “Surely this is intended to be a logo of some kind.”

“Oh hey, you’re right!” Ann said, leaning over the table to get a better look. “That's gotta be _something_, right?”

“But what kind of a crappy lead is this?” Ryuji asked. “I’m no crook; how’re we even supposed to find out what it means?”

Ryuji had a point – aside from the Phantom Thieves themselves, Akira didn’t know any criminals. Well, he knew Iwai over at Untouchable, but Iwai was retired and wouldn’t tell Akira anything that might get him into trouble, anyway. They could try to gather intel on their own, but poking around Central Street for clues might just tip off the mob boss, putting them in an even more precarious position. What they needed was someone who could look into the affairs of the criminal underworld without drawing suspicion… someone who knew where to look and what to look _for_.

The gears in Akira’s mind had already begun to turn, and he stood up abruptly, placing his hand on the medical bill.

“I need to borrow this,” he declared.  


* * *


	4. Forging Bonds

* * *

  
It was a little worrying how quickly Akira had learned to elude Morgana’s watchful eye. Of course, it was easier to pull off when Morgana was trapped in a cat’s body, with all the limitations that entailed, but Akira still didn’t feel good about taking advantage of him, trapping Morgana in Leblanc for the afternoon while he himself slipped back out the front door under the guise of going to the laundromat. In a desperate attempt to dispel the guilt that nagged at him, Akira reasoned that he was just doing his due diligence – he was still getting a feel for Crow, trying to judge his character and whether or not he would make a trustworthy ally – and maybe that was all true, but…

Akira leaned against one of the less grimy walls in the Mementos lobby and tapped his foot restlessly against the ground. Although it was around the same time they’d met up the other day, Akira hadn’t yet caught a glimpse of Crow, and he was beginning to wonder if he wasn’t just wasting his time. Who was to say whether or not Crow would even show up? Or perhaps he was already here, but he never intended to reveal himself, watching from some hidden spot and laughing at poor, gullible Joker.

A quick scan of the area with his third eye, however, told him that the only other living being around here was Justine, who was standing patiently outside the entrance to the Velvet Room on the other side of the lobby. She shot him a curious glance every so often, but otherwise she kept silent and steady, never abandoning her post.

Every second that dripped by was agonizingly slow, and Akira was about two minutes from giving up entirely when the soft sound of footsteps broke through the ambient static of the Metaverse. Finally, Crow appeared, creeping out from around the corner of a long hallway Akira had never explored. He looked on-edge, his gaze unwaveringly trained on Akira and his hand hovering over his sword hilt, but once he came close enough that the shadows no longer obscured his face, he suddenly stopped and stood up straight.

“…Joker?”

“That’s me,” Akira said. He pushed off from the wall and slipped his hands casually into his jacket pockets. “You sound surprised.”

Akira moved to take a step closer, but as soon as he did, Crow jumped back and unsheathed his sword, menacing it in Akira’s direction.

“What do you want from me?” he asked, and if Akira had weaker nerves, he might have flinched at Crow’s hostile tone.

“What do you mean, what do _I_ want? You’re the one who invited me to come train with you, remember?”

“And you thought that a good use of your time?” Crow snapped. “Why? I obviously have nothing to teach you, not when you know about changing hearts – it’s not as though you’ll ever be able to turn shadows psychotic.” He paused, and his lip curled up into a disgusted sneer. “Do you intend to try and unmask me, then? Am I such a threat to your little group that you need to ascertain my identity, take me down back in reality?”

“Wh – where’s this coming from all of a sudden?” Akira asked, holding his hands up, palms out. “Chill out. I meant what I said: I showed up because you told me you’d be here, and I want to train with you because you’re strong. That’s it.”

Crow’s eyes narrowed in suspicion so blatant that it was obvious even beneath that mask of his, and yet his sword hand wavered, the blade lowering just a little.

“That’s it?” he asked.

“That’s it.”

In the back of Akira’s mind, Arsène’s eyes flashed with fire, and a voice called out to him,

_Except that’s not true, is it? Not today._

Akira clicked his tongue.

“Actually, I do also have a favor to ask you today,” he added. “But I won’t, if you want me to prove it.”

As soon as the words left Akira’s mouth, the fire in Crow’s eyes flickered out, leaving them cold and empty. “…I see,” he said, his words clipped and razor sharp as he stowed his sword away, turning his shoulder to Akira. “Fine, go ahead, I suppose. I can’t promise I’ll answer, however.”

Akira shoved his hand into his pocket and dug around until he found his copy of Makoto’s letter. The paper was slightly crumpled, and the letter itself was almost entirely illegible, given that every potentially identifying detail had been redacted, but that didn’t matter; the logo was the only thing of interest. He extended the item to Crow, who regarded it warily for a second before snatching it from Akira’s hand.

“We’re pursuing a new target, but this is all we have to go on,” Akira explained. “The logo caught our eye, but we don’t… I thought you might be able to help us figure out where it came from.”

While Akira spoke, Crow studied the paper carefully. “This is likely the insignia of a crime lord of some kind,” he concluded. “You think I have those kinds of ties?”

“I think you’re resourceful,” Akira said. Crow blinked at him. “I’m just looking for a name, that’s all.”

“You’re looking for keywords, you mean.”

Keywords to identify a Palace. So, Crow knew how to do that, too.

“…I’ll look over it,” Crow said, folding the paper up and slipping it into his sleeve. “But I make no promises.”

The words almost didn’t register in Akira’s brain, and he had nearly blurted out a further plea for help when he realized Crow had _agreed_.

“That’s – that’s plenty,” he stammered. “Thank you.”

“Meet me back here in three days, and I’ll report what I’ve found,” Crow said, and though he spoke with outward confidence, Akira thought he looked tense, like some unwanted thought was pulling his mind in two directions at once.

“…I have one condition,” Crow added. “Don’t follow me. Don’t even try – if you do, I’ll kill you on the spot. Understood?”

“Okay,” Akira said. He wasn’t sure why Crow was bringing this up now; to Akira, that was a rule they’d quietly established during their first meeting, a rule that hadn’t needed clarification. “As long as you promise the same.”

Crow didn’t reply, but his silence spoke for itself:

_That goes without saying._  


* * *

  
“Where were you?”

Morgana’s piercing stare and sharp tongue were waiting for Akira the moment he returned to Leblanc’s attic.

“Hello to you, too,” Akira said, walking past Morgana, who was perched on the banister, his tail swishing aggressively back and forth. “I told you, I was just following up on a lead.”

“Did you go to the Metaverse again?” was Morgana’s next question, and this time, Akira kept silent on the grounds that he was unable to implicate himself if he said nothing. Morgana’s ears drooped. “So you _did_ go…”

Akira dropped his school bag on the ground, where it landed with an unceremonious thud. “Morgana, listen–”

“Akira, do you trust me?”

Morgana’s voice quivered as he spoke, and Akira stopped abruptly.

“I trust you,” he said. The words left him in an instant; he hadn’t even paused to think. “Yeah. I did go to Mementos. I found… something.” _Someone_. “And I’ll tell you about it soon, Morgana, but…”

But what? But he wasn’t done befriending this mysterious Persona-user – the one who very well could be the assassin about which they had heard so much? As if that kind of confession would soothe Morgana’s worries…

“Just for a little bit, can you trust me, too?” Akira asked.

“Trust… that this is something you need to do alone, you mean?” Morgana asked.

“Yeah. Just for now – just until I’ve confirmed a few more things for myself. I don’t want to put the team in danger.”

Akira held his breath, watching the turmoil play out behind Morgana’s eyes, until finally the cat sighed and hung his head. “Okay, Leader,” he said. “I’ll trust you… You haven’t steered us wrong yet, after all.”

Relief flooded Akira’s heart, and he smiled. “Thanks, Morgana,” he said. “I owe you.”

“You sure do!” Morgana agreed, jumping down and following Akira downstairs. “Hey, try and convince Boss to pick up some raw fish next time he goes to the store. That can be your first act of penance.”

Sojiro looked up from his crossword puzzle as the duo came down into Leblanc. “Boy, he sure is chatty tonight, huh?” he asked, his eyes following Morgana, who jumped up into a barstool and made himself comfy. “I heard him meowing when you went upstairs, too.”

“He says you should buy him some fresh tuna fillets from the market,” Akira said, taking the open seat beside Morgana.

“Tuna? Sheesh, that cat’s got expensive tastes. It’s completely out of season…” Sojiro trailed off, shaking his head like he was trying to forget that he had momentarily entertained the thought of buying something solely for a cat’s whims. “Anyway… you’re back a little earlier than usual. All done for the day?” he asked.

“Yeah. I was going to work at the convenience store, but they didn’t need me, so I’m back early, I guess,” Akira said, fiction flowing from his mouth without a second thought. That, too, was a little worrying; he hadn’t realized he had become such an accomplished liar.

Sojiro grunted and stepped away from the bar, rummaging around in the kitchen for a moment before returning with a worn green apron in his hands. “Well, if it’s work you’re looking for, you don’t need to go so far,” he said, laying the apron on the counter. “There’re plenty of chores I can’t be bothered to do around here.”

Akira hesitated, then picked up the apron and pulled it on over his head. It wasn’t as though he had anything better to do tonight, and if left to his own devices, he would only agonize fruitlessly over his decision to ask Crow for help with Phantom Thieves business. This, at least, would keep his hands occupied.

Indeed, for such a quiet café, Leblanc had no shortage of tasks. Sojiro kept him busy: there were dishes to be washed, floors to be swept, shelves to be arranged – it may have been tedious work to some, but Akira took solace in the simple, mechanical rhythm of doing mindless chores, and the hours ticked away without his notice.

He was standing in front of the coffee maker, replacing the used filter with a fresh one when Sojiro walked up beside him and asked, “You wanna try brewing a cup?”

Akira looked around. It was dark out, and the sign on Leblanc’s door had been flipped to ‘closed’ – the only other person in the café was Morgana, who was snoozing peacefully, having never moved from his barstool.

“Sure,” Akira said, and wiped his hands on his apron. “What do I do?”

Sojiro rummaged around on the back shelf, examining several jars of coffee beans before selecting a half-empty container from a lower rack.

“Make sure there’s fresh water in the bottom carafe and light the burner again,” Sojiro instructed. Akira nodded, and while he tended to the equipment, Sojiro measured out a small scoop of beans and ran them through the grinder.

“You’ll need to wait for the water to boil before adding the grounds,” Sojiro explained, handing Akira the small container of ground coffee. “You’ll know it’s ready when the siphon pulls the water into the upper chamber.”

They fell silent, each watching the burner as it slowly brought the water to a boil.

“So…” Sojiro said, turning from the counter and lighting a fresh cigarette, “are you, uh… doin’ alright in school?”

It was an innocuous question, but it caught Akira by surprise. The whole day had been a little strange, actually, but this was just icing on the weird cake – not only because Sojiro, who was usually fiercely territorial about his equipment, was allowing Akira to try his hand at coffee-brewing, but because Sojiro may have said more to him in this one night than he had since Akira first moved to Yongen-Jaya back in April. He wondered if this was cause for alarm, or if, perhaps, Sojiro was starting to warm up to him after all this time.

“Yeah,” Akira finally said. Slowly, he tipped the coffee grounds into the upper carafe, where the water had come to a boil. “I was top ten in my class for midterms.”

“That so? Huh.” Sojiro looked honestly impressed, and took a long drag on his cigarette.

“You know, I heard smoking dulls your sense of taste,” Akira commented, keeping his head ducked as if he were concentrating seriously on the coffee brewing before him.

Sojiro gave a dry, wheezy laugh. “Yeah? Well, you’re not wrong,” he said, flicking some ash onto the floor. “But it doesn’t matter how many of these things I smoke… I’ll never lose my taste for coffee or curry. It’s in my blood.”

Akira hummed thoughtfully. “How long have you been running Leblanc?” he asked.

“Oh… a good few years now,” Sojiro said. “I’ve been brewing coffee all my life. As for curry… well, not quite as long as coffee, but that doesn’t make it any less important to me.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and for a moment, it seemed as though he had traveled somewhere very far away, the plumes of cigarette smoke swirling around him like hazy memories.

“All right,” he said, abruptly stubbing out his cigarette in the ashtray by the cash register. “Let’s see how you did.”

Akira removed the heat source from the siphon and gave the boiling coffee grounds a quick stir, just as he’d seen Sojiro do dozens of times, before the siphon sucked the coffee through the filter and back into the lower chamber. Careful not to burn himself, he poured two mugs of coffee, and Sojiro took one, taking a sip of the piping hot beverage without even flinching. He paused thoughtfully, grimaced, and swallowed.

“You over-boiled it – it’s too bitter.” He paused. “Of course, some people like that,” he added, taking another sip.

Akira blew over the top of his mug and took a sip himself. Sojiro wasn’t kidding; the coffee’s flavor was harsh and acidic, leaving Akira’s mouth paradoxically dry, but still, the underlying flavor was there…

“Not bad for your first time,” Sojiro said, setting the cup down on the counter.

“I’ll keep practicing,” Akira said. He rubbed the top of the coffee brewer gently. “I’ll stay up all night brewing until I get it right.”

“Ohhh no you won’t. No operating the brewer when I’m not around,” Sojiro said, but although his tone was harsh, something softened his words – traces of amusement in his eyes and pride in his voice. “You got plans tomorrow afternoon?” he asked.

“Not yet. Why?”

“Come back to Leblanc and help me watch the café. I want to make a batch of curry, and it’ll be convenient to have someone watching the customers while my back is turned,” Sojiro said. “And I’ll let you take another crack at brewing that coffee.”

The corners of Sojiro’s lips lifted up into the barest hint of a smile, and as he finished tidying up from his failed brewing experiment, Akira couldn’t help but smile a little, too.  


* * *

  
Even though the days were growing longer, most of Leblanc’s customers cleared out well before closing time, with only a few locals remaining as the sun began to sink and the shadows outside grew long. Akira had been tending Leblanc’s counter all afternoon, and he was sure he’d seen the last of their customers for the day when he heard the front door chime again.

“Welcome— oh, it’s _you,_” Sojiro said. Akira had never heard someone change their tone so quickly before; Sojiro jumped from his pleasant-but-gruff customer service voice into an icy-cold utterance that bordered on a growl, and Akira immediately glanced at the door, curious as to what – or rather, who – could have caused such a reaction.

Two customers had just arrived. The first was a young woman with a striking presence, from her long silver hair to her sharp black suit, but perhaps the most striking thing of all was that Akira _knew_ her – this was Makoto’s sister, Sae, who Akira clearly recognized from the blackmail photo Makoto had shown him yesterday. She was obviously the one who had caught Sojiro’s attention, and she paid Akira no mind, walking up to the bar directly in front of Sojiro.

Behind her was – Akira almost couldn't believe it – Goro Akechi. What was it he’d said back at the TV station? It felt like they were supposed to meet? Akira was starting to get the feeling he was right.

“I have nothing to say to you,” Sojiro said.

Sae frowned at him. “Why the hostilities? Perhaps I’m just here for a cup of coffee,” she said, lowering herself into the barstool closet to Sojiro. She turned her head sharply towards Akechi, who had been ambling into the room and surveying Leblanc with a mild expression. “Akechi!” she snapped. “What do you want?”

“Oh, just a coffee for me, as well,” Akechi said, flashing a strained smile at Sojiro. “If you recommend it, I’m sure it’s an excellent choice.”

“Two house blends, please,” Sae said – not a request, but a demand – and barely-contained fury flashed through Sojiro’s eyes. Akira wisely backed away from the coffee grinder – to stand between Sojiro and his coffee right now would surely end in death – and wandered off to another part of the bar, where Akechi had just taken a seat.

“Ah, Kurusu-kun,” he said, the tension melting away from his smile as he turned his eyes on Akira. “How unexpected to see you here. When Sae-san invited me to come along to this café tonight, I didn’t imagine I’d end up seeing a familiar face.”

“Likewise,” Akira said. “Uh…”

“You know, I’ve tried to contact you several times these past few weeks, Sakura-san,” Sae said. Her tone would have been conversational if her posture hadn’t been so severe; she looked like a wire that had been pulled taut, ready to snap at any moment. “It’s not very good business to ignore repeated phone calls.”

Sojiro ignored her, busying himself with making the coffee.

“Aha, um…” Akechi winced, tearing his eyes away from Sae and looking back towards Akira. “Ah, so you work here? Do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Akira said. He nodded his head towards the stairs in the back. “It helps that I live here, too.”

“Oh?” Akechi twisted in his seat to look. “How interesting; I wouldn’t have guessed. Are you a relative of the owner, then?”

“No, it’s…” Akira trailed off. This wasn’t exactly his first choice of topic, but Sae’s harsh words to Sojiro had clearly left Akechi on edge, and killing the conversation where it stood would just make things more awkward. “It’s sort of a complicated set of circumstances. I had to move to the city for a year; Boss is just providing my lodging.”

Akechi’s eyebrows shot up in curiosity, but before he could ask any follow-up questions, Sojiro appeared at Akira’s shoulder, placing Akechi’s coffee on the counter.

“Here you are,” he said, just barely managing to speak in something other than a furious growl.

“Oh! Thank you very much,” Akechi said, though his thanks was hardly out of his mouth before Sojiro had shuffled away to deliver Sae’s coffee.

“I _know_ you’re hiding something,” Sae said, her voice as hard and cold as steel. “Do you want me to charge you with obstruction of justice? Because you’re gunning for such a charge with the way you keep dodging my calls.”

Sojiro presented the coffee to her silently, and, after a long second, she took it without a word, immediately tilting her head back and taking a long sip. Akechi tugged his own cup closer, following Sae’s lead and sampling the coffee for himself. His eyebrows furrowed, and he suddenly went very stiff, swallowing with some difficulty.

“We have cream and sugar, if you want it,” Akira said, surreptitiously moving the sugar bowl and a little pitcher of cream onto the bar.

“Yes… thank you,” Akechi murmured, taking a moment to add a small spoonful of sugar, stirring it until it dissolved, and then to lighten his coffee a shade with the cream. He took another drink and came away looking much happier this time.

“Well then, how are you adjusting to life here so far, Kurusu-kun?” he asked.

“I like it,” Akira decided. “Shibuya’s nice, but I like living in Yongen-Jaya. It’s closer to the way home was.”

“Ah, so you lived in a smaller town, did you?” Akechi leaned forward, taking another sip of his coffee and glancing around the café. “I think I understand how you feel. This café is lovely; very peaceful. I rather enjoy this atmosphere…”

From the other end of the bar, Sae spoke up again.

“I only ask for your cooperation,” she said, in a milder tone of voice this time. “Provide a copy of Isshiki-san’s research to the Special Investigations Department, and I’ll get out of your life forever.”

Sojiro glowered at her. Sae was unfazed.

“I’m being generous here,” she said. “Ordinarily I’d make you turn over the original documents, but I’d be willing to turn a blind eye if you’ll provide us with copies.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Sojiro said, sounding not very sorry at all, “but what you’re asking for doesn’t exist.”

Sae scoffed. “You expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t care whether or not you believe it,” Sojiro snapped. “I’m telling you, I can’t give you a copy when there are no originals in the first place.”

Instead of responding, Sae picked up her coffee mug and drained the rest of her drink in a single gulp.

Akira turned to Akechi. “She’s your coworker?” he asked in a low voice.

“Indeed so,” Akechi said, looking solemnly down the bar at Sae. “It’s a bit surprising, I know. We seem to be on different levels, don’t we…?”

“Akechi-kun!” Sae stood abruptly, fixing Akechi with a look so stern it may well have been a glare. “We’re leaving.”

“Oh, but…” Akechi frowned. His coffee cup sat half-full on the counter in front of him.

“It’s okay,” Akira said, taking the saucer and pulling it away from Akechi. “Come back sometime and finish it.”

Akechi’s eyes widened – in surprise, perhaps – and a warm smile crossed his face. “…yes. Okay, then,” he said, standing up from his barstool. As he made his way to the door, he turned back to Sojiro and said, “Thank you for the coffee and the hospitality; I truly appreciate it –”

But then Sae barked his name again, and he flinched, hurrying outside and disappearing into the growing twilight. Leblanc’s door clicked shut behind him, and the café went quiet again.

Sojiro groaned and rubbed his face with his hands. “Hey,” he said, “forget everything you just heard, okay?”

Akira blinked. “I… wasn’t really listening,” he said. Another lie, but at least this one was _mostly_ true – overhearing a nearby conversation wasn’t the same as listening on purpose… mostly.

“Oh.” Sojiro let his hands drop to his side, and the hard lines on his face softened. “Right, you were busy talking with that kid… you know him?”

“We’ve met,” Akira said. He gathered up the two coffee cups and carried them over to the sink.

Sojiro laughed bitterly. “I wonder if I should be worried that you’re making friends with the police,” he said.

“He’s a detective, actually,” Akira corrected him.

“Oh, well that’s _much_ better.” Sojiro sighed, tossing a dishrag into the sink beside Akira. “At least maybe you’ll have to keep your nose clean if you’re friends with him. Whatever… I’m heading home now, so lock up behind me, all right?”

“Sure thing, Boss.”

Once Sojiro was gone and Leblanc was safely locked up, Morgana leapt up onto the countertop. He looked wide awake, like he’d been eavesdropping for longer than Akira had assumed.

“That was the same guy we met during your trip to the TV station, wasn’t it?” Morgana asked. “That lady he was with sure seemed angry… she’s not investigating the Phantom Thieves too, is she?”

“Nah,” Akira said. “She mentioned a name I didn’t recognize… sounds like she and Boss have a history of some kind.”

“Huh… think we need to watch the Chief’s back for him?”

“Sojiro can take care of himself,” Akira said, and that was… true, probably; Sojiro had the look of someone who’d seen hell in his life and came out stronger because of it, but at the same time, he didn’t seem to have many friends, or even acquaintances. Akira wouldn’t say Sojiro was “lonely”, exactly, but Akira himself couldn’t have survived as long as he had without with Phantom Thieves, and so if Sojiro didn’t have a similar kind of support network… it would be easy for a woman as harsh as Sae to wear him down.

“…but maybe let’s keep an eye on him just in case, okay?”

Morgana purred proudly at him. “Right,” he said. “You do owe him for taking you in so suddenly… it’s the least we can do. And it’s proper for Phantom Thieves to stick up for those who can’t protect themselves, after all.”  


* * *

  
Akira passed the next few days restlessly, deflecting questions from Ann and Ryuji about his mysterious new lead with less and less convincing arguments until finally, three days after handing off the blackmail document to Crow, Akira returned to the lobby of Mementos, idly tapping his foot and feeling a distinct sense of déjà vu. He wondered again if Crow was even going to show – he’d probably think it would be funny to ditch Akira completely – but Akira’s fears were assuaged after only a few more minutes, when he heard the now-familiar sound of Crow’s boots clicking against the smooth stone floor.

“Junya Kaneshiro,” Crow said, in lieu of a greeting. He stuck his arm out straight, proffering the redacted blackmail letter, which Akira took from him.

“Junya Kaneshiro,” Akira repeated. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Akira flipped the letter over and found the name Junya Kaneshiro written in neat script that must have been Crow’s handwriting. “Did you find anything out about him?” he asked.

“As I theorized, he has ties to the mafia,” Crow said. “He’s no small fish in the criminal underworld, though it’d be charitable to call him much more than that. That said, he is almost certainly the one behind the blackmail cases that have plagued Shibuya as of late; it fits a pattern of behavior from a few years back.”

As he relayed his findings, Crow kept a watchful eye on Akira, almost as if he was gauging his reaction.

“This is incredible. Crow, you – how did you _find_ all this?” Akira asked, allowing a hint of awe to permeate his voice. Part of it was genuine – he _was_ impressed by Crow’s quick work, and the depth of information he’d retrieved was astounding – but it was also partly to test a theory, a theory Crow proved correct mere seconds later when a smile bloomed across his face. It lasted for only a brief moment, but Akira noticed it all the same: Crow was _proud_.

Interesting.

“I believe I already told you not to underestimate me, didn’t I?” Crow asked. “That applies to the real world as much as the Metaverse. I have a great number of resources at my disposal.”

Very evasive, but Akira had expected nothing less.

“So,” Crow continued, dropping any hint of self-satisfaction from his voice to affect an air of casual disinterest instead, “is this man to be the Phantom Thieves’ next target?”

“It’s looking that way,” Akira said. It wouldn’t be hard for Crow to put two and two together, so there was no harm in telling the truth, he reasoned.

“Hmm. An interesting choice, to be sure,” Crow said. “He’s certainly several steps above your previous two targets in terms of his influence, to the point that it makes me wonder how and why you chose him.” He paused and studied Akira’s masked face. “Kaneshiro is victimizing students in the Shibuya area, the same as Madarame and Kamoshida. It’s not a stretch to assume that’s how you came across him. Am I right?”

Akira blinked. Damn, this guy was almost too clever.

“You’re not wrong,” Akira said.

“And you intend to change his heart?” Crow asked.

“I don’t see any reason to break tradition.”

“Hmm… I wonder.” Crow paused, dragging his finger over the dust-encrusted turnstile beside him and frowning at the mess. “Crime lords can rise to power for a number of reasons, you know. They may be exceptionally charismatic, clever, physically powerful, or, if they lack those qualities, they may simply use their vast wealth to buy their way to the top of the criminal food chain. Would you care to wager which one describes Kaneshiro?”

The shiny golden pig adorning Makoto’s medical bill flashed clearly through Akira’s mind. “Money, huh,” he said.

“Precisely. So, say he has a change of heart – say he even turns himself in to police custody – what’s to stop one of his underlings from using that money to immediately bail him out?”

“He – he wouldn't agree to that, though,” Akira said. “After his change of heart…”

“Are you sure?” Crow moved to face Akira head-on, a deadly serious expression on his face. “How many hearts have you changed, Joker? Two? Perhaps a handful of other, less prominent targets? That’s hardly a fair sample size. Who’s to say what a change of heart can do to a person?”

It… was true, Akira had to admit. The only thing Kamoshida and Madarame had in common was that they both chose a public forum to confess their crimes, albeit on a much smaller scale for Kamoshida. But Kamoshida’s mind immediately went to suicide after his change of heart, while Madarame simply wallowed in self-pity and begged for the public’s forgiveness. As for the smaller targets Mishima had culled from the Phan-site… Akira had no idea.

Kamoshida and Madarame’s distortions had been different, too. Morgana had said that stealing a person’s treasure would cause their distorted desires to disappear, but beyond that… who could say? The Metaverse was a wild, unpredictable place, and the result of a change of heart was no different.

“…you’re right,” Akira admitted. “I don't know what would happen if we changed his heart, exactly.”

“On the other hand, if you were to assassinate his shadow, I could tell you exactly what would happen, and how to plan such an event to mitigate the fallout,” Crow said. Akira must have made a face, because Crow then added, “I can see the disbelief in your eyes, but please listen to what I am saying. This man is not the same as a teacher going on a power-trip. There are plenty of mobsters who have control over local politicians, or that have politicians with control over _them_. _That_ is the level of influence Kaneshiro may hold.”

“…that doesn’t matter,” Akira said. “It’s not about his power or influence; a change of heart… it’s an equalizing force. He’ll confess, and everyone will know what he’s done, and…”

“And then what? Do you think it will make his victims happy to know that the man who ruined their lives feels _bad_ about it now?” Crow asked sharply. “…I won’t deny that it can be a harsh punishment to force someone to live out their life wracked with guilt. But there are some crimes that can’t be forgiven. For a man like Kaneshiro… anything less than death would be an insult to his victims. Do you understand?”

Akira nodded slowly. “I hear you.”

“I’m not sure you do,” Crow said, shaking his head. He made for the exit, but before he could get far, Akira lunged forward and seized Crow’s arm, yanking him back. Crow whipped his head around and glared at Akira. “What now?” he asked.

“You’re not going to interfere, are you?”

Crow tilted his head and frowned.

“Kaneshiro is our target,” Akira clarified. He could just imagine it: the calling card sent, Kaneshiro’s treasure stolen, and then, at the last moment, Crow swooping in for the kill…

“Ah… I see.” Crow sighed. “No, I won’t interfere. You are correct that Kaneshiro is your target… it is, ultimately, your decision.”

It could have been a lie. It probably _was_ a lie, considering Crow had already expressed his distaste for the Phantom Thieves in general, but when Akira sought to look Crow in the eye, he didn’t look away. Akira dropped his arm. Despite everything, a thin strand of trust connected the two of them, and Akira decided to take Crow at his word.  


* * *

  
“So, I think I’ve got the name of our guy,” Akira announced.

After returning from Mementos, he’d shot off a quick text to the Thieves, asking them to wrangle Makoto and meet him in Leblanc’s attic as soon as possible. Now the group was congregated around the worn wooden table, with Morgana hiding underneath, impatiently waiting for Akira’s breaking news.

“You found him… you really got his name?” Makoto asked, stunned.

“Woah! Seriously?” Ann burst into a smile and punched a fist into the air. “All right! Way to go, Akira!”

“Are you absolutely certain your information is legitimate?” Yusuke asked, though it was clear that even he was becoming swept up in the excitement. The whole room buzzed with energy.

“Only one way to find out, right?” Ryuji asked. He fished his phone out of his pocket, thumbed over to the Meta-nav app, and activated it, extending it out towards Akira. “A’ight, man, lay it on us.”

“Junya Kaneshiro,” Akira said.

The Meta-nav beeped.

“Candidate found.”

“Well, whoever this guy is, he certainly has a Palace,” Morgana said. “But there are lots of people with Palaces… how do we know this is the crime lord we’re looking for?”

“We just gotta go to his Palace, right?” Ann asked. “If we talk to his shadow, it should be obvious.”

“That seems the most logical course of action,” Yusuke said. “Even if it turns out to be incorrect, this man may make a good target in the future.”

“So then we just gotta figure out his keywords…” Ryuji hummed, pulling his feet up onto his chair and resting his outstretched arm upon his knees. “Oh!” he exclaimed, turning to Makoto. “Uh, sorry; you’re probably kinda lost right now, huh?”

Makoto gave a weak smile. “A little… I assume this is how you usually operate as, um… Phantom Thieves?” she asked, her voice going a little quiet at the end, like they had to worry about being overheard when they were tucked safely away in Leblanc’s attic. “I’m surprised that you use an app… wouldn’t that be easy for the public to find?”

“It’s not really a normal app,” Ann said. She pulled the Nav up on her own phone and scooted a little closer to Makoto. “We didn’t even download it; it just kinda showed up on our phones.”

“How suspicious,” Makoto said.

“It’s not suspicious just because you don’t understand it!” Morgana protested from beneath the table.

Makoto frowned, glancing to her left and right. “At any rate, you said you needed to find something? Is there any way I could be of assistance?” she asked.

The group went quiet, and several pairs of eyes turned to Akira.

“…there are two things we need to know before we can get started,” he said. “The location and appearance of his distortion – uh, the way he sees a certain part of the world, and where it is.”

“So like, Kamoshida thought of himself as the king of Shujin, so his distortion was ‘Shujin Academy’ and ‘castle’,” Ann explained.

“And my sen – that is, Madarame thought of his atelier as a museum,” Yusuke added.

“I see…” Makoto nodded, her brows knitting together in concentration. “Well, given the students he’s chosen to victimize, the location must be somewhere in Shibuya…”

The Meta-nav beeped.

“Candidate found.”

“What?!” Ryuji yelped, fumbling with his phone and nearly dropping it. “Shibuya – like _all_ of Shibuya?”

Akira leaned over to double-check, and indeed, the location had been set to ‘Shibuya’ – simply Shibuya, and nothing more.

“I guess so,” he said. “Now we just need to figure out how he sees Shibuya.”

“Hmm…” Ryuji set his phone down on the table and crossed his arms over his knees. “Well, he’s a mob boss, so he prob’ly thinks he can do whatever he wants… maybe a playground?”

“No candidates found,” the Meta-nav told him.

“As if a crime lord would have such a childish distortion, Ryuji,” Morgana taunted.

“Hey, I’m trying my best, okay?”

Ignoring the bickering, Yusuke leaned in closer to the phone. “Perhaps a nightclub?” he asked, only for the Nav to shoot him down. “Ah. I was trying to think of places where a crime lord would spend a lot of time… a hideout, then?”

Again, no match.

“Okay, so maybe it’s not a place a crime lord would usually go – I mean, he probably owns a ton of nightclubs in the city, anyway,” Ann said. “How did the scam work, again? They made kids deliver packages of drugs and then took incriminating photos…”

“Where do you get drugs?” Ryuji asked. “A chem lab?”

“No candidates found.”

“Damn it,” Ryuji muttered.

Makoto sighed. “This is more difficult than I thought… it must have been a lot easier with Kamoshida and Madarame. We don’t know anything about this Kaneshiro person…”

“Well,” Akira said, “nothing except that he likes money.”

“Huh? Whaddya mean?” Ryuji asked.

Akira pulled the slightly crumpled blackmail letter out of his bag and laid it on the table. “The logo, remember? It’s got the kanji for gold on it – it even kinda looks like a piggy bank.”

At this, Makoto seemed to light up. “Could that be it, then? A bank?”

The Meta-nav beeped.

“Result found.”

“Woohoo!” Ann cheered, clapping her hands together. “Great job, Niijima-senpai!”

Makoto laughed, shyly tucking some of her hair behind her ear. “I’m still not sure exactly what I did, but… I’m glad I could help.”

“Well then,” Yusuke said, “shall we give it a look?”

“No time like the present,” Akira said.

“Yeah! Let’s – oh, hold on,” Ann said, turning to Makoto. “Do you know how to get home from here, Niijima-senpai? We can walk you to the train station if you want…”

“Wait!” Makoto leapt to her feet. “You’re going to confront him now, right? …Take me with you. _Please._ I want to help…”

“What? Hell no, it’s way too dangerous for regular people,” Ryuji said.

“I believe Ryuji is right,” Yusuke said. “It’s a little hard to explain, but…”

“Hey, hold on!” Morgana said, suddenly leaping up onto Ann’s lap and catapulting himself onto the table. “Don’t you remember what happened the last time she felt useless? That’s what got her into this mess! If we take her with us, we can keep an eye on her.”

“Are you for real?” Ryuji asked, stuck somewhere between outraged and baffled.

“Totally serious,” Morgana said. His gaze drifted over to Makoto. “Besides… I don’t know why, but I’ve got a good feeling about her. Maybe she has the potential, too.”

Ann sighed. “I mean, I guess Yusuke and I both went in there before we got our powers, too, and we came out okay, so… what do you think, Akira?”

Morgana looked up at Akira with big, pleading eyes.

“I trust Morgana,” Akira declared. “Plus, we have enough people to keep an eye on her. If we’re just going to scout out the Palace, I think she can come.”

“…um.”

The Thieves turned to see Makoto staring incredulously at them.

“Sorry, but… is that a cat?”  


* * *

  
Kamoshida’s castle had been an exciting Palace to be sure, and Madarame’s opalescent museum had a certain modern charm to it, but Akira had to admit that infiltrating a bank made him feel more like a Phantom Thief than any other heist they’d pulled. Security was tight; Kaneshiro was so miserably paranoid that it wasn’t enough to rely on patrolling guards and security cameras – no, his bank had to contain a labyrinth, too, a place where less skilled thieves would surely meet their end. Truly, the Palace had been a surprise to them all, and Makoto’s awakening even more so – to everyone, it would seem, except Morgana.

“How did you know?” Akira asked Morgana later, sitting in the dark attic before bed.

“I don’t know,” Morgana said. “But I remember when I first met you back in Kamoshida’s Palace, I felt like I could see a second you – your true self. I got the same feeling when we first met Makoto. When she punched out that guy, I didn’t see a high school student at first. I caught a glimpse of something… it must have been her Persona.”

“Huh.”

Well, Akira certainly wasn’t going to complain about having another addition to the team – even if only temporarily – and already, Makoto had proven herself to be strong and reliable, but Morgana still seemed troubled, pacing restlessly around on the futon.

“…Akira, what do you think I am?” he asked.

Akira hummed quietly. “You’re human, aren’t you?” he said.

“That’s what I thought, but… it’s more like, I feel like I belong with humans. So that must mean I’m one of you, right?”

“It could,” Akira said.

“But… the thing is, when we’re in Mementos, I kind of feel like I belong _there_, too. So… what if I’m really a shadow?” Morgana asked.

“Mementos is humanity’s collective unconscious, right? So if you’re a human, wouldn’t it make sense that you feel connected to it?”

“Is that how _you_ feel when we go there?” Morgana countered.

Akira didn’t answer.

Morgana sighed and flopped down on the bed beside Akira. “What I mean is, um… when I’m with you guys, it feels right to me. So… so don’t leave me, okay?”

“Of course not,” Akira said. “Phantom Thieves stick up for each other. Right?”

“Right… that’s right,” Morgana said. He curled up comfortably and closed his eyes, and then, just before Akira drifted off to sleep for the night, he heard Morgana's quiet voice one more time:

“Thank you, Akira. I’m… really glad you’re the one who found me back then.”  


* * *


	5. A Fool's Vision

* * *

  
With Makoto now at the Thieves’ side, breaching Kaneshiro’s Palace was a trivial matter – they might as well have walked in through the front door. They _didn’t_, of course – the bank was heavily guarded, with a dozen security cameras monitoring the first-floor lobby alone – but instead opted to sneak in through a secret passageway, a small tunnel hidden beneath an ostentatious piggy bank statue in the Palace’s garden.

Though a map of the bank revealed it to be absolutely massive, the Thieves were in good spirits as they began their infiltration, and Akira was pleased to see the team working so well together, breezing through the main floor and taking down droves of guards with ease. Even newly-recruited Makoto seemed to learn quickly, no doubt motivated by the blackmail letter waiting for her back in reality, a ticking time bomb looming over their mission and spurring on the rest of the Thieves to work harder, too – not just for Makoto’s sake, but for everyone Kaneshiro had victimized.

After clearing the bank’s lobby of its shambling shadow guards and casing the joint for every bit of hidden treasure they could find, Akira led the group up a wide staircase onto the second floor. It was quieter up here, and the floor plan far less open; the walls closed in around them and made it much more difficult to scout ahead for enemies. Crouching behind an abstract silver statue of a yen symbol and sensing no immediate danger, Akira was about to leave his cover when Morgana grabbed him by his coattail and tugged.

“Joker!” he exclaimed in an urgent whisper. “Hold on a second… I don’t think we’re alone up here.”

“Like, you sense a shadow?” Ann asked, poking her head out from around another statue a few feet away.

Morgana shook his head. “No, this is different. I can’t describe it, but it feels familiar…”

Cautiously, Akira crept forward, leaping from one statue to the next until he had reached the wall. The team held its collective breath as he inched closer and closer to the corner’s edge, close enough that he could peer around to the other side, unsure of what he would find waiting for him: another pair of demon guards, maybe, or perhaps even Kaneshiro’s shadow himself…

When he stuck his head around the corner, however, he found himself staring down nothing more than a shadowy black guard dog that had a mask perched on its snout. It blinked its bright red eyes at him, and he blinked right back, and then the animal howled, charging around the corner and knocking him prone.

Three shadows spawned above him: two high pixies, which floated above the battlefield, their wings fluttering hummingbird-quick, and one _very_ familiar face – an Orthrus, two heads and all, catching Akira off-guard once again… but compared to the hulking creatures that had accosted him in Mementos so many weeks ago, this creature looked much smaller – downright puny, in fact – and even though it was flanked on both sides by blue-haired faeries, it wasn’t behaving as though it had the upper hand. If anything, it looked surprised, like it never expected to get this far.

Before Akira could drag himself off the ground, Makoto leapt over him and onto the battlefield with Johanna at her side, laying into the high pixies and preventing them from coming anywhere close to Akira. Then Yusuke joined her, stepping over Akira’s legs to block him from harm and hurling a lance of ice towards the Orthrus, which screeched in pain as the spell collided. As the shadows prepared to retaliate, Morgana dashed over to Akira’s side and offered him a hand.

“All good there, Joker?” he asked, pulling Akira to his knees.

“Yeah. Sorry, Mona; even after you warned us…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Morgana said. “Besides… look.”

Akira turned his eyes once again to the fight, where Makoto had dismissed Johanna in favor of whipping out her revolver and raining a hail of bullets down over the shadows, while Yusuke dashed in and out of the fray, corralling his foes into a corner with every slice of his katana. Bits of ice clung to the Orthrus’s mane, and it shivered and trembled on unsteady legs, while the pixies struggled to stay afloat, their wings riddled with bullet holes, all three shadows unable to escape as the two Thieves trapped them against the wall.

“Joker?” Makoto shouted, throwing him a look from over her shoulder. Yusuke, too, turned to him for confirmation, and Akira gave the command to deliver the finishing blow.

From his low vantage point, he couldn’t see the ensuing fight, but he could _hear_ it: Makoto’s guttural battle cry, the crackle of ice magic in the air, the pixies’ shrieking death rattle, and finally, the decisive thud of the Orthrus crashing to the ground, signaling the end of battle. The shadows wisped away into nothingness, and the Thieves regrouped, with Makoto and Yusuke looking a little winded but otherwise unscathed.

Ann jumped in place and clasped her hands together, delighted. “That was incredible!” she cheered. “Queen, Fox, you were really amazing!”

Makoto smiled a bit shyly, dusting herself off. “Is it bad of me to say I find this sort of… cathartic? Not that I’m enjoying the violence, but… it’s nice to be able to let loose.”

“I feel the same,” Yusuke said, and though it was clear he was trying to suppress it, a small smile crept onto his face, too. “This is a rare opportunity; it would be more surprising if you found no enjoyment in it whatsoever.”

“So, that’s it?” Ryuji asked, throwing a glance down the hallway. “I guess it was just another shadow after all, huh?”

“No, no – that’s not…” Morgana closed his eyes and flicked his ears forward, listening intently. “It wasn’t a shadow, I swear. Or, not a normal shadow, at least. Maybe Kaneshiro’s watching us…”

“Well, it _is_ his Palace,” Ann said. “I guess that’s not so surprising.”

“We have to keep moving, regardless, but it won’t hurt to stay cautious,” Yusuke said. He sheathed his katana and turned to Akira. “Joker?” he asked, and Akira nodded, returning to the front of the group and motioning for the other Thieves to follow.

Now that its guard had been summarily defeated, the short hallway was completely empty, and so was the next. A handful of deserted office rooms populated the floor – including one with particularly weak cognition, where the group paused for a moment to catch their breath – but otherwise, there was nothing of interest to be found up here. The good news, though, was that their winding path had lead them to another set of staircases, which promised to lead them even deeper into the bank and – with any hope – closer to their goal.

As they descended the stairs back onto the ground floor, another long hallway stretched out before them, and though it appeared no different than any hall before it, Akira’s instincts prickled and made him stop short, throwing his arm out to halt the Thieves. He didn’t have to explain himself: one only had to look up to see the row of security cameras hanging from the ceiling, plainly visible and spaced just far enough apart that they covered the entire length of the hallway. Akira frowned, analyzing the area carefully, but before he could draw any conclusions, Ryuji got up from his position and started to walk forward.

“H-hey, Skull!” Ann called out, grabbing for him and missing by a wide mark, but as he stepped into the first camera’s line of sight… nothing happened. Ryuji kept going, standing up on the tips of his toes to stare directly into the camera’s lens, and then he tapped it with his lead pipe, causing several chunks of plastic to fall off.

“Yo, these things are _wrecked_,” he said. He hesitated for a second, and then he reared back with his pipe, smashing the rest of the camera for good measure and knocking it clean off the wall.

Upon closer inspection, Akira was able to see that yes, every single camera had been broken to various degrees – even the control panel on the other side of the hall had been destroyed – almost to the point of overkill.

“We haven’t been this way yet, have we?” Makoto asked.

“We have not,” Yusuke said. He pulled out the map and peered over it with Ann, tracing a path with his index finger. “This is the first time we’ve reached this side of the ground floor.”

“Weird. Maybe something about Kaneshiro’s cognition caused them to become broken?” Morgana suggested.

“What’s it matter why it happened?” Ryuji asked. He moved on to the next camera and smashed that one, too. “It just makes things easier for us.”

“I dunno… isn’t this kinda sketchy?” Ann asked. “We don’t know what did this… what if it’s really powerful?”

There were a dozen possible explanations for what had happened to this hallway. It could have been a rampaging shadow, or the cognitive manifestation of Kaneshiro’s rage, or perhaps it was meant to be symbolic, a representation of the law enforcement’s inability to catch Kaneshiro… it _could_ have been any of these things, but from deep within his heart, Akira knew it was nothing of the sort.

“I don’t think we need to worry,” Akira said slowly, staring into the hallway as he spoke, looking for something that was already long gone. “This is just a lucky boon, nothing more. We don’t need to over-think it.”

“I think Joker’s right,” Morgana said. “We shouldn’t take anything for granted – and we shouldn’t assume this means every camera from here on out will be broken – but for now… it’s a nice surprise, don’t you think?”

“Sure,” Akira said.

(This destruction was too deliberate to have been accidental. But he didn’t need to say so.)

Over the course of the next several days, the Thieves progressed through the back half of the bank, and though they found no further signs of an intruder, they did find plenty of “customers” – living ATMs heaped atop one another in stairwell corners or hunched up against the wall, sparking and smoking and bemoaning their broken lives – dozens and dozens of reminders that Kaneshiro was disturbing on a completely different level than Kamoshida or Madarame had been.

Oh, certainly on the surface Kaneshiro appeared no different: like Kamoshida, he preyed upon a vulnerable populace, extorting them for his own gain, and like Madarame, he perceived himself to be a victim of society and thus justified in his actions. The _scope_ of Kaneshiro’s influence, however, was what truly set him apart from the Thieves’ previous targets. One only had to look around his floating bank fortress to understand that Kaneshiro viewed humans not as individuals, but as resources to be exploited.

“So… this is Kaneshiro’s heart,” Makoto said. They were passing through a cavernous hallway, the floors of which were littered with hundreds and hundreds of bills, each one marked with a huge denomination of currency. “This is the level of distortion it takes to spawn a Palace…”

“That’s right,” Morgana said. “And it’s obvious from this room that the source of his distortion is his insatiable greed.”

Distantly, they heard Kaneshiro speak, the voice of his heart ringing out:

_Money… I need money!_

_As long as I’m rich, anything will be possible…_

Makoto crossed her arms tightly over her chest. “Was it like this with your previous targets?” she asked. “Did you hear their thoughts while you were in their Palaces, too?”

“We did,” Yusuke said. “We heard things I couldn’t imagine Sensei ever saying out loud, and yet they were undeniably spoken in his true voice… it was difficult to bear, at times.”

And while the Thieves lacked the intimate personal connection to Kaneshiro that had been present with Kamoshida and Madarame, it was nonetheless painful to hear him speak so callously about his victims – his “employees” – or at least, it felt that way to Akira. The way Kaneshiro championed the hierarchy of the wealthy exploiting the weak, as if it were the natural order of things, made Akira furious on a visceral, primal level.

It reminded him of the man who had pulled so many strings to get Akira falsely accused of assault. Kaneshiro was exactly the same.

In idle moments, Akira wondered how Kaneshiro’s inevitable change of heart would play out. Would he confess to his sins over public broadcast, as had Madarame? Akira couldn’t imagine such a thing; with the number of criminals Kaneshiro commanded, revealing his crimes in public would be tantamount to committing suicide. So then, like Kamoshida, was _that_ where Kaneshiro’s mind would turn…?

And if it did, wouldn’t that really be for the best? A man like this could ruin dozens of lives with a single order – had _already_ ruined more lives than they could count – and it made Akira nauseous. Certainly Kaneshiro had information that could prove invaluable to the police – _if_ he was willing to give it up. But if he didn’t? If the Thieves changed his heart and he went underground, dropped off the grid and disappeared, what then?

Was a change of heart even permanent?

If Kaneshiro’s desires had become distorted once, what was stopping them from distorting again?

_Who’s to say what a change of heart can do to a person?_

Akira wished he knew.  


* * *

  
In time, Kaneshiro’s laundering office gave way to a long glass elevator overlooking the bank-Palace’s huge expanse of underground vaults, and there, in the very center of the room, lay the Thieves’ prize: Kaneshiro’s treasure was hiding somewhere down there. Now all they had to do was find it.

The deeper they went, the more abstract the Palace became – that is, the less it came to resemble a real bank – and Kaneshiro’s distortions only grew stronger, his voice more unhinged. They trawled through the labyrinth, reshaping the room with every massive lock cylinder they turned, until finally the Thieves stood on the precipice of the deepest part of Kaneshiro’s vault. His treasure surely lay just beyond the elevator doors, but before they took that plunge, Akira carted everyone into the nearby safe room to rest.

“We’re so close,” Morgana groaned, dragging himself up onto the sturdy wooden desk sitting in the middle of the room. “We can make it, right? I can almost _smell_ the treasure… _treasure…_”

“Do we hafta?” Ryuji asked, plunking himself down in one of the numerous office chairs. “I’m wiped, man.”

“I’m exhausted, too,” Makoto said, “but if the treasure is as close as Mona says, then I’d like to push on just a bit longer.” She sighed and sat down in a sleek leather armchair. “I’d like to send the calling card as quickly as possible, as well.”

“For sure,” Ann said. “I can’t wait to change this scumbag’s heart.”

A murmur of agreement rippled around the room, and Akira felt a pang of fear run through his body.

There… really wasn’t going to be a better time than this.

“I’ve been wondering about that,” Akira said.

“Wondering about what, Joker?” Morgana asked, pushing himself into a sitting position and tilting his head curiously.

“Wondering about changing Kaneshiro’s heart,” Akira said. He tried to swallow, but his tongue felt too thick for his mouth. “Wondering if that’s really what we ought to do.”

“Uh… I mean, obviously?” Ryuji said. He had been spinning idly around in his rolling chair, and turned to face Akira. “He’s blackmailin’ Queen.”

“That’s exactly what I mean,” Akira said. The air in the room grew heavy, the tension thick enough to be palpable, like when a Palace-owner went on high alert and the world became oversaturated with energy.

“Ah.”

Yusuke, who had been sitting quietly in the back of the room near a large green houseplant, spoke up. “I see. You are suggesting not that we ignore Kaneshiro, but that we pursue a different course of action than a change of heart,” he said, eyeing Akira thoughtfully. “Could it be that you want to induce a mental shutdown, Joker?”

Akira looked Yusuke hard in the eyes and nodded.

“You wanna _kill_ him?” Ryuji shrieked, nearly losing his balance on the wobbly chair. “For real??”

“Where’s this coming from all of a sudden?” Ann asked. Even though her face was partly obscured by her mask, Akira didn’t think she looked angry – _no one_ looked angry, in fact. Bewildered, perhaps, or concerned, but not angry. Akira took it as a good sign.

“From his Palace,” Akira said. “Compared to Kamoshida or Madarame, Kaneshiro is different. You must have noticed.”

“You mean in terms of scale,” Makoto said. “Kamoshida was terrorizing a high school, and Madarame could only take on so many pupils at once, but… a mob boss…”

“It’s impossible to know the number of lives he’s ruined,” Morgana said. “That’s what you’re thinking, right?”

“Yeah,” Akira said. “After seeing all this… I just wondered if the world would miss a man like him.”

“I follow your logic,” Yusuke said. “However, do we really have the right to judge whether he lives or dies?”

“Well, I mean, we could turn that on Kaneshiro, too, couldn’t we?” Ann asked. She wasn’t looking anyone in the eye, toying with the edge of her mask. “What gives him the right to extort all those kids? Or stalk Queen’s sister?”

Both questions had come to Akira during their trek through the Palace. It was true that someone had granted Akira his power – someone had looked into Akira’s soul and deemed him worthy of Arsène – but did that give him the authority to end another’s life?

By that same token, what made Kaneshiro believe such a right belonged to him, either?

“Yeah, but…!” Ryuji exclaimed, looking around the room as if everyone had just grown a second head. “Wouldn’t a change of heart take care of that? He’ll confess, ‘n quit taking advantage of people, and…”

“And what?” Akira asked. Unbidden, Crow’s words flew to his lips: “Do you think it would make his victims happy to know that the man who ruined their lives feels _bad_ about it now?”

Instantly, the room went still; the only sounds Akira could hear were the soft whine of the air conditioning and the heavy beating of his own heart. His entire body shook with tremors, and he braced himself on the back of a chair just to keep steady.

It was Makoto that broke the silence.

“Mona,” she said. “The treasure is close, correct?”

“Very,” Morgana said with a definitive nod. “I feel like it’s just around the corner.”

“Then I propose we table this discussion for another day,” Makoto said. “We’re exhausted, and we’re in no position to make such a crucial decision right now. Let’s secure the route to the treasure, head home, and regroup later – say, two days from now?” She turned to Akira. “Is that acceptable, Leader?”

“…yeah,” Akira said, nodding. “It’s fine by me. Everyone?”

The group agreed. Summoning up one last burst of energy, they traveled down the final elevator and into the treasure room, and then, with their infiltration route secured, they returned to reality with a cloud of mild discomfort still clinging to the group. They said their stilted goodbyes, each too preoccupied with their own thoughts to bother saying much more, and Akira returned to Leblanc with Morgana in tow. He must have looked drained, because Sojiro didn’t even suggest he come work tonight, instead encouraging him to head upstairs and turn in early, for once – and Akira wasn’t one to argue.

“You surprised me today, you know,” Morgana said. He was sitting on top of Akira’s bookcase, just next to a large, decorative ramen bowl. “I didn’t think you’d be interested in causing a mental shutdown, even in someone like Kaneshiro.”

“He’s just… different. I don’t know how to explain it,” Akira said. He tugged his sleep shirt on over his head and asked, “Do you think the others are going to agree?”

“Hard to say. I’m glad Makoto suggested we sleep on it, though. You wouldn’t want to rush into that kind of decision,” Morgana said, leaping down from his perch to hop up onto Akira’s futon. “But I just want you to know… whatever you decide, I’ll support you.”

“Thanks, Morgana.”

“Hey, can you prop open your window for me?” Morgana asked. He pawed at the window pane closest to him. “I want to go take a walk before bed.”

“Sure,” Akira said, sliding open the window and allowing the warm summer breeze inside. The sky was clear, the moon hanging low over the rooftops, starlight gleaming on Morgana’s fur as he hopped out onto the ledge.

“I won’t be long; go ahead and get some sleep, okay?” he asked, waiting for Akira to nod before bounding off into the night. When he was fully out of sight, Akira turned off his lamp, settling into bed and allowing the gentle sounds of the evening to lull him to sleep.

But the moment he was sure he’d drifted off, Akira felt a tug, insistent and demanding, dragging him into the Velvet Room.

He stumbled, the weight of his manacles heavy around his ankle, and made his way to the wrought iron door. It had been a while since he had last visited this place, but its inhabitants appeared the same as always, with Justine and Caroline standing at attention on either side of his cell, while in the dead center of the room, Igor sat at his desk, one long leg crossed over the other.

“It would seem you have made another step towards your rehabilitation. You have even made an unexpected ally in the process,” he said, steepling his fingers together. “However… I urge you to be cautious around the one with powers that mirror your own. Like forces are fated to repel one another.”

Justine gave a startled gasp. “So… you knew, Master?” she asked. “The second wildcard that the inmate mentioned…”

“Justine,” Igor said, turning his nose in her direction. She immediately fell silent. “Yes,” he continued, “I feel compelled to warn you that if you continue to cooperate with that one, your rehabilitation will be doomed to fail.”

So, Akira thought, Igor _did_ know about Crow – but the twins still seemed genuinely surprised to learn about him. Interesting.

“Do you know who he is? Why he has the same power as I do?” Akira asked.

“The answer to those questions is both beyond my knowledge and none of your concern,” Igor said.

Akira held his tongue. Igor was usually cryptic, but he was very rarely outright contradictory, which made that declaration somewhat strange. If he didn’t know the answer, how could he know it was none of Akira’s business…? He wanted to protest, but a quick glance at Justine and Caroline told him this was a line of questioning he should drop.

“Okay,” he said instead.

Igor smiled until his face looked to be cut evenly in half by his teeth. “Very good,” he said.

“Now then,” Justine said, turning to Akira, “on to the matter of your most recent target…”

“You’re gonna need some real firepower if you want to stand a chance against a shadow like Kaneshiro’s,” Caroline said. “Luckily you for, we’ve prepared something to help.”

At this, Justine tore a sheet of paper from her clipboard and held it out through the cell bars. Akira accepted the gift, and found that it had the names of three Personas written on it, followed by a crude sketch of a bipedal tiger with machine guns for arms.

“Ha-_ha!_” Caroline smiled triumphantly. “Think you can handle it, Inmate?”

Akira opened his mouth to answer, but before he could, his alarm pulled him back to the real world, and he woke up. It felt like no time at all had passed, but the sky was already growing light – summer mornings started so early – and his phone told him it was seven am sharp, and so, reluctantly, Akira sat up. His bedroom window was still open, but there was a lump at the foot of the bed where Morgana was curled up, yawning loudly as Akira’s alarm roused him from his peaceful slumber. He opened his eyes.

“Morning,” he said. “Did you sleep well?”

“Okay, I guess,” Akira said. “Had a weird dream.”

“Oh yeah?” Morgana padded over to sit beside him. “Hmm? What’ve you got there?” he asked.

“Got where?”

“There.”

With his paw, Morgana tapped Akira’s right hand, which was clenched into a tight fist – he was holding something. Frowning, Akira uncurled his fingers, revealing a crumpled sheet of paper: the fusion recipe he’d received from Justine and Caroline, just as he remembered from his dream.  


* * *

  
“Joker.”

Akira closed his eyes. A knight dressed in stately red-plate armor and riding atop a jet black horse stood before him. His name was Eligor, and when he opened his mouth, words spilled out:

_I’m afraid to even leave my house… what if they follow me and find out where I live? What if they jump me on my way to school? What if… _

“Are you listening to me?”

Another knight rode up beside Eligor, this one in shining black armor, and then they were both joined by a strangely muscular owl-headed demon. They, too, began to speak without moving their lips, the thoughts and fears of Shibuya flooding Akira’s head.

_What if… _

_I don’t have enough money to do what I want…_

_…Haven’t there been a lot of pictures leaked recently?_

_What if, what if… _

“Joker!”

Something grabbed Akira by the shoulder and dragged him out of his own mind. When he came to, he found himself in the near-darkness, though he could see a faint red haze in the air, and – right, he was in Mementos this afternoon, hoping to pick up the components of Caroline and Justine’s Persona spell, and the one who had been yelling his name was Crow, whom Akira had run into along the way.

“You’re doing it again, aren’t you?” Crow asked.

Akira stared blankly at him.

“Huh?”

Crow scowled. “Look at me,” he said, and fixed Akira with an unblinking glare. After a moment, he released Akira’s shoulder and declared: “Six.”

“…what?”

“You have six Personas with you right now, don’t you?”

Akira shifted the souls around in his mind and counted them out.

“Yep,” he said. “You’re right.”

Crow crossed his arms and sighed. “Look, I’m not going to stop you,” he said, “but if you’re going to insist on following me into battle, I need you to be sharp. You should see yourself right now; you can hardly stand upright. It’s embarrassing.”

A rush of shame flooded Akira’s mind. It was true that he didn’t really need the shiny necklace that he’d encountered by chance a few floors back, nor did he have any use for the Pixie who had hitched a ride with him – Arsène, plus the three he needed to fuse Flauros, were more than enough. He allowed the two weaklings to leave, and almost instantly the fog cleared from his mind; he felt like he’d just had a shot of espresso.

Crow must have noticed the new clarity in his eyes, because some of the frustration left his posture. “Better?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Akira said, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry about that.”

“Why are you bothering to pick up all those strays, anyway?” Crow asked as they began making their way back to the top of Mementos. “Arsène seems perfectly capable.”

“If you must know,” Akira said, “I’m going to take them to a small blue prison and send them all to the gallows to form an even stronger Persona from their residual energy.”

Crow stared at him.

“If you don’t want to explain yourself, you can just tell me to fuck off,” he said. “I’d listen.”

Akira laughed, casually tossing his dagger in the air and catching it easily. “You know,” he said, “you told me when we met that you’d borrow Personas as you need them, but I’ve never even seen you try.”

Crow wrinkled his nose. “I don’t particularly enjoy the thought of inviting a stranger into my head,” he said. “Robin and Loki both originated from my heart… they are part of me. Other shadows are simply tools, and I don’t care to keep tools with me at all times.” He paused, watching Akira’s dagger sail up into the air and back into his hand. “Besides, I don’t like the way they talk.”

“They _do_ like to talk,” Akira mused. “And I don’t even know how I picked up a few of them…”

“You need to be more careful,” Crow said. “Keep track of the Personas you’re accepting and let the weak links go regularly. Otherwise you’ll end up in a daze somewhere dangerous… you can’t keep expecting me to bail you out of tricky situations.”

“You’re never going to let me live that down, are you.”

“Oh, absolutely not,” Crow said, his lip curling up into a sharp grin, and then he laughed, bringing one hand up to cover his smirk. “I have nearly two years of experience over you, after all… Really, you should be calling me senpai, shouldn’t you?”

In a flash, Akira sheathed his dagger, allowing him to reach out and clasp Crow’s raised hand with both of his. “Thank you for always looking out for me, Crow-senpai,” he cooed, exaggerated gratitude curling through each word.

Beneath his mask’s red lenses, Crow’s eyes went wide. He gave a puff of nervous laughter and yanked his hand out of Akira’s grip.

“Well, let’s just stick to Crow then, shall we?” he asked.

Akira righted himself, a self-satisfied grin lingering on his face.

“_Regardless,_” Crow said, in a very particular tone of voice that told Akira they were changing the subject whether he liked it or not, “how has your infiltration into Kaneshiro’s Palace been going?”

“Like you don’t know,” Akira said, doing everything in his power to restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

“Hmm?” Crow looked at him with affected shock. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean.”

“I know you followed us the other day,” Akira said.

Crow shrugged, as if it wasn’t even worth denying. “Yes. And?”

“And… I broached the subject, actually. Of causing a mental shutdown instead of stealing his heart.”

Crow almost tripped over the uneven cavern floor. “What, are you serious? I’m… surprised, honestly. How did the others react?”

“We haven’t decided yet,” Akira said. “We want it to be unanimous… I guess it’s a tough decision to make.”

“…would you like me to do it for you?”

It was Akira’s turn to stumble clumsily over his own two feet.

“What?”

“Would you like me to kill him? Kaneshiro?” Crow repeated, casually examining his clawed fingers as if he was asking nothing more serious than if Akira wanted to go grab lunch.

“You’d do that? For _us_?”

“I have seen the man’s heart,” Crow said. “I have no qualms about killing such a waste of human life… if you Thieves cannot harden your hearts, then pass that responsibility off to someone who can.”

Akira opened his mouth and shut it again.

“You’d have plausible deniability,” Crow continued. “The kill couldn’t be traced to you, provided you never sent a calling card. You’d have nothing to fear, and you’d have no blood on your hands.”

Crow wasn’t lying about that; the news had only reported a handful of mental shutdowns, and thus far, they were all entirely unsolved cases. Furthermore, no one knew the Thieves were currently pursuing Kaneshiro, no one except for Crow, and if Crow was offering to induce a mental shutdown, he wouldn’t rat them out – _couldn’t_ rat them out, not without exposing himself, too.

It was fool-proof, really, but…

“That’s not the point,” Akira said. “It’s never been a problem of being caught; it’s a personal thing. Getting someone else to do it for me, that’s… cowardly.” He took a steadying breath; the longer he spoke, the faster his heart raced. “If I don’t have the conviction to kill someone for myself… if I forced that burden off on another, just so I could claim moral purity, what kind of coward would I be?”

“You truly feel that way?”

Crow’s voice sounded distant, and it took Akira a moment to realize why: turning around, he saw Crow had stopped dead in his tracks, staring at Akira incredulously.

“Sure,” Akira said. “And I _would_ have blood on my hands, for the record. If I was the one that told you to go kill Kaneshiro’s shadow, that’s as good as pulling the trigger myself. You’re just the vector; I had the intent. You know?”

At first, Crow didn’t respond, but then he started to walk again, catching up to Akira and shaking his head at him. “You continue to mystify me, Joker,” he said.

“Oh? That’s a funny way to say, ‘Wow, Joker, your strength of will is _truly_ impressive – admirable, even,’” Akira said, leaning up in Crow’s face and smirking. “But you’ve never been good at saying what you mean, so I accept the compliment, anyway.”

Crow scoffed, lifting his chin up and inadvertently poking Akira in the nose with his mask before he shifted aside, turning his shoulder on Akira. “As always, you’re a reckless fool,” he said. “When the time comes, whatever you choose, I hope you won’t waver.”

“That’s as close to ‘good luck’ as I’m going to get out of you, so thanks, I guess,” Akira said.

The familiar sight of the Mementos lobby greeted them when they finished climbing the last set of stairs, and Akira began to make his way to the Velvet Room, tossing a casual wave at Crow on his way.

“Are you not heading home?” Crow called to him.

“No, I told you; I’m going to go execute these guys,” – he spun around to face Crow and tapped the side of his head – “and make them stronger.”

Crow groaned and rubbed the visible part of his face with his hand. “Fine; I don’t care. Goodbye, Joker,” he said, walking away without looking back.  


* * *

  
Akira didn’t even pretend to pay attention in class the next day. It was obvious to anyone who looked at him – even Chouno-sensei could tell his head was in the clouds, and her frustration was just about to reach a boiling point when someone called over the intercom, summoning her to the faculty office for an urgent meeting. Akira recognized Kawakami’s voice and vowed to thank her for this moment of reprieve when he got back to homeroom tomorrow.

Grateful for the chance to keep his hands occupied, he pulled a few pieces of scrap material out of his desk and began shaping some plant balm into a vaguely spherical shape. As he did, Ann twisted around in her seat to face him, looping her arms over the back of her chair.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you said,” she told him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, and about… maybe actually going through with it.” Ann sighed, sinking her head into her arms. “I just wonder, y’know… what it would be like. Would it make us…?”

She trailed off and threw a surreptitious glance at the student sitting behind Akira. While the guy had always seemed content to ignore Morgana whenever he poked his head out from Akira’s desk, the word “murderers” might give him a little more pause, and Ann wisely kept quiet.

“I would do it,” Akira said. “It was my idea.”

“But if we’re gonna do this, it had to be a unanimous decision,” Ann protested. “So even if you were the one to… y’know, we’d still be responsible.”

Akira gave her a noncommittal shrug.

“Have you talked to anyone else about it?” she asked.

“Just Morgana,” Akira said. “Why? Have you talked to anyone?”

“I tried to talk with Ryuji,” Ann said, “but he got really quiet when I did. I haven’t heard from Yusuke or Makoto, though.”

“We’ll find out how they feel soon enough, I guess,” Akira said.

“I guess so.” Another sigh, and then she lifted her head somewhat. “Are gonna meet at the hideout, or Leblanc?”

“Leblanc,” Akira decided after a moment’s thought. “The accessway is too open… we’ll be overheard.”

“In retrospect, such a public place maybe wasn’t the best choice for a hideout,” Morgana commented, his voice slightly muffled by the desk.

“Yeaaaah,” Ann said, shaking her head. “Well hey! Maybe we can talk about that this afternoon, too.”

Then the classroom door opened, and Chouno-sensei returned from Kawakami’s wild goose chase. Akira spent the rest of the school day imagining places that would make a more secure hideout than a large public walkway in the underground mall, an endeavor that successfully carried him through the rest of class and all the way to the final bell.

The Shujin-attending Thieves congregated outside the school’s front gate, making their way to Yongen-Jaya together and discussing painfully surface-level topics during their commute. When they entered Leblanc, they found Yusuke already there and waiting for them, a small and completely empty bowl of curry sitting on the counter in front of him. When he saw the team arrive, however, he got to his feet without a word.

Akira side-eyed Sojiro, who was staring at him with a mix of blatant curiosity and skepticism, surprised to see that a so-called delinquent like Akira had amassed so many friends in such a short time period. Akira smiled weakly and gave him a casual wave, making a mental note to introduce him to Makoto before the afternoon was over.

Upstairs, Ryuji helped Akira pull the table out from the corner of the attic, and everyone sat down silently. They didn’t need to introduce the topic; everyone knew why they were here.

After a few long, tense seconds, Ann sucked in a breath and spoke up.

“Makoto? What do you think?” she asked. “You’re the one he’s hurt the most. It should be your call.”

Makoto sat completely still, her hands clenched into tight fists in her lap. “We… we can’t,” she said slowly. She paused, looking around the group as if waiting to be interrupted, but she had the Thieves’ full attention. “If he dies, the rest of his crime ring will go underground out of fear. Sis would never be able to track them down again. I just can't bring myself to give up an opportunity for her to gain such incredible information. But…” she bit her lip and looked up. “After the police had finished interrogating him, if he were to suffer a mental shutdown, I… I don’t think I’d mind if…”

“I believe I agree with Makoto,” Yusuke said when it became apparent that Makoto couldn’t quite finish her thought. “The informaton Kaneshiro could provide to the police is more valuable than his life, and it isn't as though his shadow will disappear forever. We can always return at some later date, if we think it appropriate.”

Ryuji let out a long sigh. “All right. Okay, cool. I’m down with that.”

“Okay then,” Akira said, nodding firmly. “We’ll carry on like we usually do.”

“I’m sorry, Akira-kun,” Makoto said. “I just –”

“Don’t.” Akira held up his hand, cutting her off. “It was just a thought. I don’t want everyone blindly following me just because I’m the leader. If you think we should induce a change of heart, that’s what we’ll do.”

“I suppose, then, that makes it time to create the calling card,” Yusuke commented.

“Do you think I could help?” Makoto asked. “If that’s all right, I mean.”

“Totally,” Ann said. “We wouldn’t have gotten here if it wasn’t for you, after all.”

“Now,” Yusuke said, retrieving his backpack and rummaging around for a moment before pulling out a red and black card, “if you’d like to see Madarame’s calling card for reference, we can start working on a first draft.”

Ryuji winced and snatched the calling card out of Yusuke's hand. “Dude, are you just carryin’ that around all day? That’s gonna get you in trouble, man…”

Yusuke began to defend himself to Ryuji, while Makoto and Ann huddled together, examining the old calling card and beginning to brainstorm what kind of a call-out would cut deepest for a man like Kaneshiro, and just like that, the team fell back into their usual rhythm, as if the moral conflict they’d just navigated had never happened in the first place.

Though a hint of apprehension lingered in the back of Akira’s mind, he pushed it aside – there was work to be done, and with Makoto at the helm, they finished the calling card in record time. Distributing the cards was a task that usually fell to Morgana, the least suspicious of the group, but this time the others had no choice but to help out; without knowing where Kaneshiro was hiding, a scatter-shot approach seemed most likely to get his attention, and so, in the dead of night, they plastered Shibuya with calling cards, careful to obscure their faces and never linger too long in one place.

They waited until after school the next day, not even a full twelve hours after the calling card went live, but they had no way to confirm that the message had been received – until they arrived in Kaneshiro’s Palace and found the place swarming with guards and pulsing with energy. Success.

Kaneshiro’s shadow was waiting for them at the vault, of course, and the fight he put up was… impressive, though Akira wouldn’t call it admirable; he fought like a fly that had been trapped in a spider’s web: frantic and desperate. By the end of it all, he was on his hands and knees, begging forgiveness, Makoto staring down at the pitiful shell of a man while Ryuji and Morgana secured his treasure.

“You’ll turn yourself in and cooperate with the police,” she said. “Give up your information, and perhaps your life will have some worth after all.”

Kaneshiro’s shadow whimpered. Makoto’s tone left no room for argument. Behind her, Morgana pulled Kaneshiro’s briefcase from its pedestal, and the entire bank trembled beneath them.

“A’ight, we gotta split,” Ryuji said. “Queen, you ready?”

With one last disparaging look at Kaneshiro’s shadow, Makoto nodded and turned towards the exit. “Yes,” she said. “Let’s go.”

The Palace began to crumble, and the Thieves fled, leaving Kaneshiro’s shadow behind, sobbing and lying flat on the ground as it disappeared from sight. Plaster cracked and fell from the ceilings as the Thieves ran for the exit, the very floor itself starting to quake beneath their feet, and only once they were back outside did they realize that the bank’s floating island was crashing to the ground. As soon as they could, they re-activated the Metaverse navigator, returning to real-world Shibuya just before the island collided with the pavement.

The app deposited them back on the stable, motionless ground outside Shibuya’s subway station, and they toppled over each other, stumbling with excess inertia. For a brief second, they all held their breath, looking each other over as if expecting to see cuts or bruises or some other sign of failure at the last minute, but they were all healthy and whole. Makoto laughed breathlessly.

“We… we did it, didn’t we?” she asked. “We stole his heart.”

“That we did,” Akira said. He offered the team a small smile. “Good work, everyone.”

“Well, Makoto?” Morgana asked, leaping up from the ground and onto Akira’s shoulders. “How do you feel about your first heist as a Phantom Thief?”

“Oh? I, well…” A tiny smile graced Makoto’s face, and she tucked some hair behind her ear. “It’s quite exhilarating, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Yusuke agreed. “Despite the circumstances, the rush you feel when running for your life… it is a feeling I doubt I shall ever manage to recreate here in reality.”

“Although… Morgana, you said first?” Makoto asked. “Am I to take it you’d like me to join your team?”

“’Course we do!” Ryuji said, and then his eyes went suddenly wide. “I – I mean, don’t we? I, uh, I guess we never talked about it…”

“I guess we didn’t need to,” Ann said, “because we all felt the same way. Right, guys?”

“There’s safety in numbers,” Morgana said. “And I think Queen has proven herself to be quite reliable, don’t you?”

“I concur,” Yusuke said. “Though… it would be best if you refrained from picking fights with crime lords in the future.”

“I promise that is _not_ an experience I’d like to replicate, trust me,” Makoto said.

Ann turned to Akira expectantly. “What about you, Akira?”

“We can’t force you,” Akira said, “but you’ve more than earned a spot on the team.”

“I see. Then… I’d like to accept your offer,” Makoto said. She closed her eyes, and a quiet resolve washed over the team. “Working with you all, I felt more powerful than I've ever felt before… so, thank you. I won't waste this opportunity.”  


* * *

  
The first few days after a successful heart-heist were always tense, and it was even worse when they had no way to keep tabs on their target. Nearly five days had passed since Kaneshiro’s Palace collapsed, but despite their best efforts to scour the internet for _any_ stories regarding mob bosses, regardless of their content, the Thieves were completely clueless as to Kaneshiro’s whereabouts or state of mind.

They’d done all they could do, and Akira knew this, but it didn’t make the waiting any easier.

Luckily, Sojiro seemed perfectly content to let Akira waste his evenings away behind Leblanc’s bar, tidying up the cabinets and re-organizing the coffee beans. That’s where he was tonight, down on his hands and knees sorting Leblanc’s myriad pots and pans so that they might actually fit in the drawer beneath the sink, when he heard the tell-tale chime of the front door.

Akira didn’t move. The café was empty; Sojiro could take care of this.

Yet instead of the generic customer greeting Akira can anticipated, what Sojiro said was this: “I already told her I have nothing to say to you people, so if you’re here for information, you’re wasting your time!”

Akira stood bolt upright and turned towards the café, where he found Akechi standing in the doorway looking like a startled deer.

“Oh, um… my apologies,” Akechi said, “but I’m not here on Sae-san’s behalf. It’s, well…”

“He’s here to see me,” Akira chimed in. Akechi’s eyes darted towards him, and even from this distance, Akira could see relief flood his eyes. “And to finish his coffee from last time. Right?”

“Yes, precisely,” Akechi said, taking a few more emboldened steps into Leblanc.

“Oh… right,” Sojiro said, going faintly red from embarrassment. “I forgot that you two knew each other… sorry for jumping down your throat.”

“That’s quite all right,” Akechi said. “For my part, I’d like to apologize for Sae-san’s behavior the other day. She has become uncharacteristically tense in recent weeks…”

“No, no,” Sojiro said, waving his hand. “Don’t apologize for someone else’s behavior. You’ll end up paying for mistakes you’ve never made.” Akechi sat down at the bar, taking the same seat he’d used last time, and Sojiro cleared his throat. “…well, what’ll it be?” he asked. “Let me get you something on the house.”

“Oh, that’s not necessary,” Akechi said with a smile, “but if you insist, I’ll just have a cup of coffee, please.”

“Sure. Comin’ right up,” Sojiro said. “Grab that blend I was working on this afternoon, would you?” he asked, this time speaking to Akira, who found the requested beans and handed them off to Sojiro without question – Akira was not so arrogant as to assume Sojiro was ready to let him serve coffee to customers just yet. Instead he returned to the ground, hastily shoving the last few pots into the drawer so that he could speak with Akechi, instead.

When he got back to his feet, Akira saw that Akechi already had his coffee and was in the process of adding some sugar and cream, just as he had the first time he visited. Sojiro hesitated for just a moment, looking between Akechi and Akira before gruffly mumbling, “I’ll be in the back,” and shuffling off towards the refrigerator.

“You made it back,” Akira said.

“I did indeed.” Akechi gave him a tired smile. “I would have loved to come back earlier, if I’m being honest, but work has been so hectic… even more so than usual these past few days.”

“Oh yeah?” Akira asked. Akechi nodded, lifting his coffee mug to his lips and drinking deeply. “Lots of cases to solve, I presume?”

“Something like that,” Akechi said. “Have you been keeping up with the latest news about the Phantom Thieves, Kurusu-kun?”

“When I can,” Akira said. “A new calling card showed up, right?”

Akechi didn’t respond immediately, taking a long sip of his coffee like he was buying himself some time to think. “Just under a week ago, yes,” he said, and then, more slowly, “…Junya Kaneshiro. Do you know of him?”

Akira shook his head.

“That’s not surprising,” Akechi said. “It’s not a name with which the public would be familiar. I myself am only tangentially aware of him due to my work at the police station…”

Akechi set his coffee cup down and observed Akira curiously. Akira was in a risky position; if he appeared too nonchalant, Akechi might stop talking before revealing any classified information, but if he slipped up and revealed how intrigued he truly was, that would raise suspicions, too…

“He is a crime lord,” Akechi finally said, “one we’ve been trying to apprehend for well over a year now. And just this afternoon, he turned himself in to police custody.”

A shock of surprise coursed through Akira’s body, and he was sure he gave a visible start. “Uh – wow. Really?” he asked.

“Indeed so. It’s a completely unprecedented situation,” Akechi said. His expression darkened. “It would seem the Phantom Thieves have succeeded again.”

“You don’t sound too happy about that,” Akira commented.

“Ah, please don’t misunderstand,” Akechi said, flashing him a disarming smile. “I’m overjoyed that such a vile criminal is under arrest now, but the circumstances are… troubling. It all but confirms the fact that the Phantom Thieves have some way to manipulate individuals on a psychological level, the likes of which we’ve never seen before. Additionally… Sae-san has been pursuing this case aggressively. Now that he turned himself in of his own volition – or rather, through the Phantom Thieves’ volition – Sae-san cannot claim responsibility for his arrest. It’s very likely that she will be passed over for a promotion as a result.”

“That’s rough,” Akira said.

“Indeed… but ultimately, I think we’d all agree that it’s better to have Kaneshiro behind bars.”

“It’s kind of hard to argue against that, huh?”

“Oh, certainly.” Akechi’s smile turned wry. “It’s part of what makes my job so difficult.”

Then Akechi took a long drink of his coffee, leaving his words to ring in Akira’s ears. 

Kaneshiro behind bars – could it really be true? He didn’t dare make that assumption, yet he couldn’t help but want to believe Akechi. The detective was an enemy of the Phantom Thieves, but not of Akira, exactly, so he had no reason to lie. Yet if Akira pressed him, he might become suspicious… 

“So,” Akira began, grabbing a cleaning rag from behind the bar and busying himself with a menial task to hide his jittery excitement, “what does all this mean for you, detective?” 

Akechi’s lips curled into a smiled around the rim of his coffee mug, and he set it down on its saucer. 

“Nothing you’d be interested in hearing about, I’m sure,” he said. “I’d hate to bore you.” 

Akira shrugged. “Try me,” he said. “I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.” 

Akechi chuckled, tapping his nails against the side of his coffee mug. 

“Well,” he said, “if you insist…” 

The two of them spoke quietly for a while, Akechi ranting about his work and Akira listening sympathetically, but the conversation drifted to other topics, and soon they’d wasted the entire evening away at the bar. When it was closing time, Akechi politely excused himself, and Akira was at last able to fish his phone out of his pocket without seeming rude. After flipping the café’s sign to “closed” and locking the door, he thumbed over to the Phantom Thieves’ group chat.

**>>Akira Kurusu:** Guys, I have some good news…  


* * *


	6. Broken Calm

* * *

  
It was late Sunday afternoon, usually Leblanc’s busiest time of the week, but today, a heavy downpour warded off all but the most loyal customers, leaving the café nearly deserted until Akira came home, sopping wet from getting caught in the rain during a run with Ryuji. Sojiro had seemed content to idle the afternoon away with the two of them hanging out at the bar – _after_ they had thoroughly dried off, anyway – but soon Ann joined them, and once Yusuke and Makoto traipsed through the door, Sojiro sighed roughly, said something about closing up shop early, and left for home with little more than a vague threat to keep the store clean while he was gone.

Now the Thieves were alone, sprawled out around the café and anxiously watching Leblanc’s mounted TV unit, waiting for confirmation that the news Akechi had revealed to Akira wasn’t simply wild speculation.

And speculation it was not. It took some time, but sure enough, once the news had broken, all sorts of media outlets began to pick up the juiciest story they’d seen in weeks: a notorious mob boss, turning himself in to the police of his own free will? Such a thing was completely unheard of – except, wait now, what about the calling cards people had seen in Shibuya the previous week? Those cards that addressed Kaneshiro by name… this was the work of the Phantom Thieves, the media was sure of it, yet what this meant, no one knew.

A crisp, clear picture of Kaneshiro’s calling card – complete with the Phantom Thieves’ logo – popped up on the TV screen, and Ryuji cheered, raising his soda glass in the air and tipping his head back, polishing off his drink in one go. He sighed in satisfaction and clacked the glass back down onto the table.

“Ahh, another successful heist for the Phantom Thieves!” he said, crossing his arms behind his head and leaning back in his seat, a triumphant grin on his face.

“We really did succeed, didn’t we?” Makoto asked. She had slumped down into her booth seat like she’d used up the last of her energy for the day, but her eyes were still glued to the news report as it continued. The case details were all still highly classified; it seemed the police wanted to play their cards close to their chest for the time being.

“I’ll have to ask Sis about it later tonight,” she said. “I might be able to learn some more details.”

“Ooh, yeah! Be sure to let us know if you find anything out!” Ann said.

“Don’t push too hard, though,” Akira warned her. “You don’t want her becoming suspicious of you.”

“Yes, of course. I promise I won’t do anything to compromise our identities… Joker,” Makoto said, nodding seriously, though she couldn’t keep the smile off her face when she said his codename.

Then, without explaining much more about the situation, the news shifted gears to a discussion of the Phantom Thieves themselves. It was too early to say exactly how strongly Kaneshiro’s arrest would impact their popularity, but one thing was clear: their name was beginning to spread far beyond Shibuya’s borders.

“It seems as though public opinion of us has improved,” Yusuke said.

Morgana cackled with delight. “Of course! People have no choice but to recognize us now that we’ve changed the heart of such a terrible villain.”

“Oh, right!” Ryuji said, sitting upright suddenly and shoving his hand into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. “Hey, I sold Kaneshiro’s stupid briefcase. Turns out it was pretty valuable!”

“Woah, no kidding,” Ann said, looking at the impressive stack of bills Ryuji produced. “Ooh, we should do something to celebrate!”

“We should!” Morgana agreed. “You all did very well… and it’s nearly tradition to have a welcoming party for new Thieves at this point.”

“Hold on a moment,” Makoto said. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten that exams start next week?”

“Ahh, c’mon, Makoto-senpai,” Ann said, nudging her in the shoulder and grinning. “We deserve at least a little bit of a break before then, don’t you think?”

“Shouldn’t we be laying low after this change of heart?” Makoto asked in return. “If your grades were to drop suddenly…”

“Eh, it’d be more suspicious for me to do well all of a sudden,” Ryuji said. “Besides, that’s a week away! We’ve got time.”

Makoto looked utterly pained. “It’s less time than you’d think…”

“After exams, then,” Akira said. “We can afford to wait a little while.”

“I agree; exams must take priority for now,” Yusuke said. “Although… I see no harm in planning our celebration ahead of time. Does anyone have something in mind? I certainly wouldn’t be opposed to sharing another meal…”

“But we’ve done food the past two times,” Morgana said, pouting as much as a cat could pout. “Unless you’re going to take me out to sushi, I’ll have to pass.”

“Oh hey, how ‘bout we hit up a fireworks festival?” Ryuji asked. He had his phone in his hand and had been scrolling through it intently, finally stopping on a small listing of upcoming events in the area. “There’s gonna be a big one in, like, a week.”

Ann frowned. “The one in Shibuya? Ugh, it’s always so crowded…” she looked at Ryuji’s phone from over his shoulder and pointed to something on the screen. “Here, look, there’s gonna be a little festival in Inokashira Park the week after. Why don’t we go there? It’s smaller, but it shouldn’t be as busy, and we won’t have to stand around in the city, either.”

“I think that sounds lovely,” Yusuke said. “That should be after exams have finished, too… would that be acceptable, Makoto?”

“…I suppose so,” Makoto said, resigning herself to the will of the overwhelming majority.

“Ooh, fireworks! I can’t wait!” Morgana chirped. “Are you guys gonna wear yukatas?”

“Oh, I am for sure,” Ann said. “What about you, Makoto?”

“I think I’ve got something I could wear in the back of my closet, somewhere,” Makoto mused.

“Ah… Lady Ann in a yukata.” Morgana sighed happily, curling his tail around his feet. “Watching fireworks in the park on a summer night… it’s so romantic.”

“We’re gonna be goin’ as a group, though,” Ryuji said. “Don’t make it weird.”

“I – I’m not making it weird!” Morgana exclaimed, indignant. “I was simply commenting, you know, on the yukata… it’s, uh, an elegant piece of clothing!”

“Ah, indeed,” Yusuke said, closing his eyes and smiling serenely. “The yukata is the height of traditional summer fashion… I’ll certainly wear mine, as well.”

“Man, now you’re making me feel weird that I won’t be all dressed up,” Ryuji muttered, picking up his empty glass and staring into it, willing a new beverage to appear.

“We could go shopping!” Ann suggested, her eyes lighting up at the thought. “Akira? What about you?”

Akira shrugged noncommittally, which Ann took as tacit approval.

“All right! Ooh, this’ll be fun; when do you want to go? Are you free tomorrow?”

“Ann,” Makoto said, exasperation leaking into her voice. “Exams…”

“Okay, okay,” Ann said, waving her hand at Makoto. “Fine. We can go shopping when we need to take a break from studying. Breaks are important, right?”

“I suppose I can’t argue with that…”

“Great!” Ann said, throwing an arm around Makoto’s shoulder and pulling her into a side hug. From there, the group devolved into idle conversation, organizing study groups and daydreaming about summer vacation, while on the television, the news droned on, the anchors lamenting the fact that the cause of the recent psychotic breakdowns was still unknown.  


* * *

  
Akira wasn’t sure he’d ever studied so much, or for such a sustained period of time, as he did over the next few days. Makoto seemed determined to keep them all from failing, and even Ryuji had to admit – reluctantly – that her tutelage was top-notch. When exams rolled around the next week, they were a breeze; Akira barely struggled at all, which was a refreshing change from midterms, where – although he did perfectly well – he had to fight tooth and nail for every right answer. This time around, the answers seemed to flow from his mind to his pencil completely autonomously.

True to her word, Ann took Akira and Ryuji shopping for yukatas after school on Wednesday, when their minds were too exhausted from the exams themselves to study any further. Though Akira had no love for shopping in general, and even less for clothes shopping in particular, it was fun to go as a group, and Ann had a strong eye for fashion. For Akira, she found a black yukata decorated with criss-crossing grey lines that created a pattern of overlapping squares, which she insisted would suit him perfectly, and by the end of the day, it was hanging neatly beside Akira’s ramshackle bookshelf, waiting to be worn.

It poured rain on the night of the 18th, and Akira couldn’t have been happier that they decided to forgo Shibuya’s grand festival in favor of the little gathering at Inokashira Park a few days later. When the night in question came around, Akira felt a flood of relief he hadn’t felt since… well, since he moved to Shibuya, probably; for once, for one night, he would get to have a regular evening with his friends, not as a Phantom Thief and not as a delinquent – just as Akira, and he found that normalcy to be strangely refreshing.

Stepping out of the metro station closest to Inokashira, Akira looked upwards, and noted with delight the perfectly clear sky, where he could already start to see a faint pinprick of stars coming out even though sunlight still glowed low on the horizon. The early summer heat kept the world warm long into the evening, and with the soft breeze and the distance sound of cicadas whining, the scene was set for a festival.

“Hey, Akira! Over here, man.”

Ryuji’s voice hailed him over to a pillar where he and Yusuke were waiting. Akira had already seen Ryuji’s outfit – he had been there when Ann picked it out – but it was still nice to see him dressed up in the moment. His yukata was olive green, a color that complemented his skin tone in a way that Akira wouldn’t have even noticed if Ann hadn’t mentioned it, with intricate white detailing that stood out nicely in contrast to the simple elegance of Yusuke’s own deep blue garment.

“Hey, hey! Nice to see you guys,” Morgana said, popping his head out of Akira’s bag. “Are we waiting on the ladies?”

“Yeah, Ann just texted – she’s nearly here,” Ryuji said.

As they stood and waited, they watched more and more people, many of whom were similarly yukata-clad, exit the subway station and make their way to the festival, too. Finally, as one particularly large crowd poured out of the station, two familiar faces appeared. Ann spotted them immediately, taking Makoto by the hand and leading her through the crowd towards the boys.

“Hey!” Ann called out, beaming at them. The girls were much more brightly dressed than the boys: Makoto wore a white yukata decorated with stylized plum blossoms, while Ann wore something flashy and colorful, with a cotton candy blue base and covered in a splattering of differently-sized circles. Though their outfits were hardly coordinated, when they stood side-by-side like this, it reminded Akira of being in the Metaverse, each thief uniquely dressed to reflect the will of their own heart, and he felt an unexpected swell of joy.

“We’re all here… shall we head in?” Makoto asked, and they fell into step behind a few other people who seemed to be heading in the same direction and made their way to Inokashira.

When they arrived, they found a steady stream of visitors pouring into the park, where paper lanterns lined the paths and dozens of white lights had been strung through the trees, guiding the guests around. Down one path, Akira could see the tops of a few pop-up tents, while down another, he saw a sidewalk that traced the edge of the lake and continued off further into the park.

“It’s likely the fireworks won’t start until it gets darker,” Yusuke said. “Until then, shall we have a look around?”

“Totally! Oooh, something smells so _good!_” Ann chirped. With one hand, she took hold of Yusuke’s loose sleeve; with the other, she grabbed Ryuji by the wrist, and tugged on them both. “C’mon, let’s go check out the stalls!”

Before they got very far, however, Makoto stopped short, looking over her shoulder and frowning. Akira followed her line of sight to the street, where a long car had pulled up to the curb, and though it was hard to tell from here, it seemed like someone was being escorted out of the car.

“Oh, is that…?” Makoto glanced at Akira as she began to walk away, waving her hand distractedly back at the group. “You guys go on ahead; I just want to check something…”

Akira smiled faintly and made to follow the others, when he happened to glance down a less-crowded pathway, and then he, too, stopped short, because something – some_one_ – had caught his eye. He was standing alone, apart from the crowd, and although his figure was obscured by the dark, Akira was still certain…

He looked back at Ann, Ryuji, and Yusuke, with Morgana trailing behind them, and then to Makoto, who was speaking with a young woman, a girl about their own age, and decided he could slip away for a moment. No one would even notice he was gone if he was quick about it.

He wove his way through the loose crowd towards the one he had seen: a young man wearing a deep blue yukata decorated with threads of silver rice stalks that swam elegantly over the fabric and under his pale grey obi. He stood facing the lake, his back partly towards Akira, and held a paper fan over his face, with which he fanned himself lightly as he stared out over the water.

“Akechi-kun?” Akira asked. The boy turned to look at him with a shocked, almost hostile expression on his face, and for a split-second, Akira thought he missed his mark. A moment later, however, the boy lowered his fan and revealed a smile.

“Kurusu-kun. This is an unexpected surprise,” Akechi said.

It _was_ Akechi, but Akira was certain that to anyone unfamiliar with the detective, he would have been nearly unidentifiable. Not only was he wearing uncharacteristic clothing, but he had that fan to obscure his face, and his hair, instead of hanging loose, was pulled back in a low ponytail that exposed his neck and made him look more youthful than usual.

“I’ll say. I almost didn’t recognize you like this,” Akira replied.

That earned him another smile from Akechi. “That’s rather the point, isn’t it?” he asked.

Akira rubbed the back of his neck and winced. Of course; he should have realized that someone like Akechi would want the chance to spend some time outside without being recognized. “Sorry,” he said. “If you want, I can just—”

“No!” Akechi said quickly, holding up his free hand. He blinked and cleared his throat. “That is – I’m merely looking to avoid being mobbed with attention tonight. I wouldn’t mind your company.”

Akira hesitated, then stepped off the path, closer to the fence and closer to Akechi. “Is that why you’ve got your hair in a ponytail?” he asked. “So you won’t be recognized?”

Unconsciously, Akechi lifted his hand and touched the back of his neck. “Oh, something like that,” he said. “I suppose my goal for tonight is… I’d just like to pretend I’m someone else. Someone ordinary.”

They lapsed into an awkward silence, the bustling crowd flowing behind them like a river current passing beside rocks. Akechi played with the edge of his fan and gave Akira an apologetic smile.

“Ah, forgive me,” he said. “I’m afraid you’ve caught me somewhat out of my element.”

“It’s okay,” Akira said. He rested his elbows on the fencepost, looking out over the water and casting around in his mind for a suitably neutral topic of conversation. “Do you live around here?” he asked.

“Not exactly,” Akechi said. He paused, and then he joined Akira, leaning against the fence as well. He waved his hand vaguely to the west. “Actually, I’m somewhat far from home. I simply… prefer the atmosphere here.”

“It was the same for me,” Akira said.

“Is that so? How lucky for us to happen across each other, then,” Akechi said. “Are you here to celebrate the end of the semester, perhaps?”

“Oh, something like that,” Akira said, and a flicker of amusement flashed across Akechi’s face. “The end of exams is more like it.”

“Always a time worth celebrating, in my experience.”

“Did you have exams, too?”

“I did,” Akechi said. “Due to my obligations at work, I missed a good deal of class this semester, but that did not mean I was exempt from exams. Luckily, I am quite skilled at teaching myself.”

“And _so_ modest,” Akira said. The second the words left his mouth, he panicked internally, wondering if Akechi was the kind of person who would respond well to teasing or if he’d just find the comment rude.

And indeed, at first Akechi’s eyes went wide in surprise, but then his face relaxed, he hummed in amusement, and he… smiled. He _was_ smiling, but it was a smile Akira had never seen, neither his public smile nor the little smile he had shown Akira before; no, this smile was wicked, just as playful as Akira’s but with an underlying edge that pierced right through Akira’s chest.

“I think I’ve earned a little immodesty, don’t you?” Akechi asked.

Somehow, Akira felt like the air had been knocked out of his lungs, and he laughed a little to clear the feeling away. “I won’t argue,” he said once he’d found his tongue again. “It’s impressive that you can balance work and school so easily.”

“Does it seem easy to you, Kurusu-kun?” Akechi asked. His wicked smile faded, replaced with a more familiar, sober expression. “I suppose that’s good… that _is_ the image I want to project.”

He didn’t elaborate, and Akira got the feeling that perhaps Akechi had said a little more than he’d intended to just now. The polite thing to do, Akira thought, would be to change the subject, and so he pushed himself away from the fence and asked, “Do you want to walk around and get some food?”

“Oh?” Again, Akechi looked baffled at the suggestion, but he shook off that surprise quickly and replaced it with a mildly pleasant expression. “Ah, certainly. That sounds nice.”

They waited until there was a break in the foot traffic, and then they merged with the crowd again, following the winding path along the river that would eventually branch off and lead them up towards the food stalls. A breeze picked up while they walked, fluffing Akechi’s bangs and pushing some hair into his face, which he brushed aside, glancing sideways at Akira.

“Well then… do you have any plans for the summer yet?” Akechi asked.

“Not yet,” Akira said. “I’ll keep busy somehow… Boss will probably rope me into working at Leblanc, I guess.”

“Ah, so you’ll be working, too. It’s the same for me.”

“You’ll still be working with the police over the summer?”

“Indeed,” Akechi said. “If anything, I expect to be swamped with cases.”

“Things have been busy since Kaneshiro’s arrest, huh?”

“What?” Akechi asked, his eyebrows shooting up. “Oh… that’s right; the news must have gone public by now. I’m sorry, Kurusu-kun; I’m not really at liberty to discuss such confidential information…”

“It’s okay.”

“But perhaps I’ll make time to visit Leblanc, if you’ll be there,” he added, more quietly.

“You should,” Akira agreed. “It’s been a little while.”

A blank look graced Akechi’s features. “Ah? Wasn’t it just two weeks ago?” he asked, as if two weeks wasn’t nearly half a month.

“Yeah, just about,” Akira said.

“I… suppose that is a fairly long time,” Akechi conceded. He looked a little embarrassed. “I didn’t realize… um, that is, I didn’t want to overstay my welcome.”

“You wouldn’t,” Akira said. “But consider this a formal invitation to stop by whenever you’d like.”

Akechi looked down, fiddling with his fan again.

“Thank you,” he said. “I appreciate that.”

They were really in the thick of the festival now, a dozen little shops and stalls lining the footpath on both sides, the smell of freshly fried food wafting through the air. Akira felt his stomach growl in anticipation.

“Let’s eat something," he declared. "What’s your favorite?”

“My favorite?” Akechi blinked. “I suppose… I rather enjoy takoyaki. I don’t eat it very often, but it’s my favorite festival food.”

It was easy enough to find a stall selling takoyaki, its portable frying station on full display for the customers, ensuring that only minimal time was spent between removing the morsels from the oil and placing them in a customer’s hands. They each purchased an order for themselves, and together they moved off the path, out of the way of traffic so they could eat in relative peace.

Akechi skewered one of his takoyaki balls with a toothpick, holding it up and allowing it to cool in the air before stuffing the whole thing into his mouth. His face lit up as he chewed.

“It’s delicious,” he said. “I know it may not be the highest quality, but outside during the summer… it’s the perfect time to enjoy this kind of snack.”

Akira ate a piece of his own takoyaki, finding it to be a little chewy and blisteringly hot, but Akechi was right: something about the atmosphere made food taste even better. The air was warm and heavy with the sound of cicadas and conversation, but the breeze was pleasant, and Akira was surprised by how _calm_ he felt, comfortable standing beside Akechi even as no words passed between them.

By the time they had finished their snacks, it was dark enough that without the plentiful lights, Akira wasn’t sure he’d be able to find his way back to the footpath. He turned to face Akechi, who was looking at him expectantly, but before Akira could say anything, he felt his phone start to vibrate. When he pulled it out, he saw Ryuji’s name, and a pang of fear hit him. How long had he been gone? He’d completely lost track of time…

“Sorry,” Akira whispered to Akechi before turning away to answer. “Hello?”

“Hey man, where’d you go?” Ryuji asked.

“Sorry, I got distracted,” Akira said. “Where are you guys?”

“We’re over by the lake! Makoto’s friend, man, she’s got, like, _connections_ – had this huge place roped off just for her, but she invited us over and it’s just – c’mon, come find us! It’s getting dark.”

“Right, right. Okay. You’re by the lake?”

(The entire park was by the lake.)

“Yeah, like – we’re kinda close to the entrance I guess? Uhh… hey Ann –”

There was a brief scuffle on the other side of the phone, and then Akira heard Ann’s voice say: “Oh my god, we’re just over the bridge. You can’t miss us.”

“Right, thanks,” Akira said. “Okay, I’ll be there soon.”

Akira slipped his phone back into his pocket and turned back to Akechi. He opened his mouth, but Akechi held up his hand and shook his head.

“I wouldn’t want to impose. Please, go be with your friends,” he said.

“I’d hate for you to watch the show alone, though,” Akira said.

“There are certain perks to solitude, you know,” Akechi said, smiling in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. “Besides… as long as you’re watching the same fireworks, I’m not really watching alone, am I?” He tucked some hair behind his ear, and the flush on his cheeks seemed to deepen – from the heat, certainly. “At any rate… thank you for spending some time with me, Kurusu-kun. I appreciate it.”

“Of course. It was fun,” Akira said. “Okay… have a good night, Akechi-kun.”

“And you as well, Kurusu-kun.”

With that, Akira dipped into the crowd and attempted to follow Ryuji’s vague directions, passing the park’s entrance and crossing over the bridge Ann had mentioned. There weren’t many spots along the lake where a person could sit – most of the lake being surrounded by a fence – a fact which narrowed his search significantly, so much so that it took only a few minutes to find his friends.

“Akira! Over here,” Ann called out, waving a hand high in the air and beckoning him closer. “There you are. Where’d you go?”

“I ran into somebody and got sidetracked,” Akira said. “Sorry for disappearing.”

“Well, you’re here in time for the most important part, at least,” Ann said.

Akira looked at the group assembled around him. Ryuji and Yusuke were sitting on a large, plush picnic blanket, Morgana at their side, while Makoto was standing next to a young woman with short, fluffy hair. This must have been the friend Ryuji mentioned; she wore a yukata made of shiny silk, decorated with delicate, overlapping pink flowers, and carried herself with an air of elegance that made her stand out among the significantly less dignified Thieves around her.

“Oh, Akira-kun,” Makoto said, stepping closer. “I’d like you to meet Haru Okumura. Haru-chan, this is Akira Kurusu; you remember, I mentioned him before…”

“Of course! It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Akira-kun,” Haru said, bowing deeply to him. When she stood upright again, she wore a bright, sunny smile that seemed in stark contrast to her otherwise refined demeanor. “Mako-chan speaks so highly of you!”

Akira caught Makoto’s eye and mouthed _ “Mako-chan?”_ before turning his attention back to Haru. “It’s nice to meet you, too,” he said.

“She’s a third year at Shujin, like me,” Makoto explained. “I happened to see her on the way in, and she invited us to come watch the fireworks with her.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Akira said.

“Oh no, it’s my pleasure!” Haru said. “I’ve enjoyed chatting with everyone so much, and besides, I haven’t had the chance to speak with Mako-chan much since she joined student council…”

“Well, you’ve been hard to find yourself,” Makoto said. Unwittingly, her eyes flicked to look behind Haru’s back, and only now did Akira notice the two men in suits standing off just a few meters away, watching Haru intently. “Will you be staying in Japan over the summer?” she asked.

“Mm, yes,” Haru said. She paused, and Akira thought he saw her smile fade just a touch. “I must start preparing for my wedding… it’s arranged to happen this winter, so there’s a good deal I need to do.”

Something about the way she spoke, the sudden tightness to her posture, didn’t sit right with Akira, but before he could speak up, he was interrupted by a magnificent crash of sound.

“Oh!” Haru exclaimed. “It’s starting.”

The whole park seemed to grow still as everyone collectively turned their eyes to the sky, watching as the fireworks soared overhead in bright bursts, colorful light glittering off the lake’s surface and setting the world aglow.

For the show’s duration, Akira felt a now-familiar sensation – a connection to the people of Shibuya – but this was different from what he was used to. Where his Personas often brought him the fears and anxieties that linked society together, the festival instead united everyone under a blanket of warm emotion, of happiness.

It didn’t last long, but for the time, it was nice.  


* * *

  
The summer began slowly, lazily, with a heavy heat wave settling over Shibuya and sapping Akira of any energy he might have used to go explore the Metaverse, or even simply to leave the café. After such a whirlwind first semester, however, he thought he’d earned a few lazy days, and the others seemed content to scour the internet for leads on a new target, dropping names in the group chat and debating their worthiness as a follow-up to Kaneshiro.

Late one afternoon, as Akira was lying flat on the couch and trying to survive the overbearing heat for a few more hours until he could go to the bathhouse, he heard a sustained humming noise. He brushed it off at first until he realized it was coming from inside the attic, from his phone: someone was calling him, a rare enough event already, and rarer still that Makoto would be the one doing the calling.

Frowning, Akira picked up and answered, “Hello?”

“Akira-kun,” Makoto said. She was speaking very softly, her voice quiet and a little weak. “Hello. I’m sorry to bother you like this…”

“It’s no bother,” Akira said. “What’s up? Is something wrong?”

“…yes. Well, I’m not sure.”

Akira wanted to say it wasn’t like Makoto to be so anxious, but he quickly corrected himself: it wasn’t like _Queen_ to be so anxious. Makoto, on the other hand, seemed to be well-versed in the art of worrying for hours before making a snap decision, and that was only in the short time Akira had known her.

Something was definitely troubling her, though, so Akira hazarded a guess as to what _he_ could do to help right now and asked, “Do you want to come over to Leblanc?”

For a long moment, Makoto was silent, and Akira said nothing, listening patiently to her harried breathing. Distantly, he thought he heard the sound of a door slamming.

“Could I?” Makoto asked. “Just for an hour or two. I wanted to discuss something with you, and I’d rather not speak about it over the phone.”

“Yeah, of course. Do you need to stay the night?”

“I don’t think that will be necessary… but I appreciate the offer.” On the other end of the line, Makoto breathed a sigh of relief. “Um. Okay then. Shall I see you soon?”

“Yeah. I’ll be here – come over whenever.”

They said their goodbyes, and when Akira set his phone down, he found Morgana at his feet, looking up at him.

“That was Makoto,” Akira said. “She’s going to come over for a little while.”

“Oho?” Morgana asked. “What’s the occasion?”

“She didn’t want to say,” Akira said, “but she didn’t sound thrilled.”

They moved back down into Leblanc, where they sat at the bar and waited until the door chimed a short while later, heralding Makoto’s arrival. She had her school bag with her, and when she stepped inside, she glanced first to Sojiro and then to Akira.

“Good evening,” she said. “I, um, wanted to do some summer reading, but I was having trouble focusing at home, so…”

“You’re always welcome,” Akira said. He hopped up from the bar and walked casually over to a booth seat, silently inviting Makoto to follow. She did so, sliding into the seat across from him and setting her bag down on the table.

“Everything all right, Queen?” Morgana asked, winding his way beneath the table and then up onto the seat beside Makoto.

“I… I don’t know.” Makoto sighed, twisting a zipper strap on her backpack between her fingers.

After giving her a few moments to compose herself, Akira gently asked, “Does this involve your sister?”

Makoto's lips lifted up in the weakest facsimile of a smile, but her eyes remained glued to the table. “Ha… nothing slips past you, Joker,” she said. “Yes… I was studying in my room a little while ago when Sis came home. I don’t think she knew I was there… she may have forgotten about my summer break. She was talking to someone on the phone, and she was… furious.”

“Something happened at work?” Akira asked.

“I’m not sure, exactly,” Makoto said. “I could only hear half of the conversation, after all, but… I did hear Kaneshiro’s name.”

“Well, Kaneshiro _is_ in police custody;” Morgana said. “Maybe she’s been assigned to work on his trial?”

“It’s not a ‘maybe’ – I know for a fact she’s been assigned to prosecute him,” Makoto said. “But based on what I overheard, I think… it sounds like someone is working to get Kaneshiro out of prison, regardless of Kaneshiro’s will, or that of the police.”

“What!?” Morgana yelped. “Already? But it’s only been a few weeks!”

“Precisely. His trial is set to begin in the middle of August, so if someone wanted to keep him from testifying about his criminal acts in court, now would be the time to get him away from the police,” Makoto said. “And… there’s something else,” she added, finally lifting her head to look Akira in the eyes. “Have you been watching the news lately, Akira-kun?”

“Only when I’m here,” Akira said, gesturing over his shoulder to Leblanc’s TV unit. “Why?”

Makoto pulled out her phone, thumbing through a few pages as she spoke. “I’ve been watching nearly every evening, trying to keep up with Kaneshiro’s case, but the strangest thing is… I haven’t heard his name in days. And then today, _this_ surfaces online…”

She turned her phone towards him and slid it across the table. She had opened to a sparsely-populated website, one that contained nothing more than a very peculiar logo and a long message in English, which was all gibberish to Akira.

“I take it this isn’t good news,” he said.

“It’s not great. There’s a translation of this speech somewhere online, but the gist of it is that this hacker group – they call themselves Medjed – has decided to ‘declare war’ on us.”

“Us… you mean the Thieves?” Morgana asked, and Makoto nodded.

“I haven’t done much research into this group,” she said. “They seem to have been fairly prolific in the past, but mostly they tended to leak confidential company secrets to the public in order to break a scandal. Additionally, they haven’t been very active in recent years… it seems odd that they would call out the Phantom Thieves in this way.”

“You think it’s something to worry about?” Morgana asked.

“Hard to say at this juncture,” Makoto said, “but you have to admit, it’s strange timing, isn’t it? That this Medjed group would suddenly reappear, dragging the spotlight away from Kaneshiro…”

“You think it’s on purpose, then,” Akira said. “A smokescreen.”

“As much as I hate to say it, that is the only logical conclusion I can draw right now,” Makoto said. “I know I must sound paranoid, but I’ve never heard Sis so angry before… I had to talk to someone about it.”

“You know… we could settle this right now,” Akira said. He pulled out his phone and thumbed over to the Metaverse navigator as way of an explanation. “Let’s go find Kaneshiro’s shadow, talk to him. Maybe we can learn something.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Morgana said. “It certainly can’t hurt, right?”

“Shouldn’t we call the rest of the team?” Makoto asked.

Morgana shook his head. “We’ve stolen his treasure, so his shadow should be much more docile now. If we’re just going to talk to him, I doubt we’ll need more than three teammates,” he said. “Besides, it’s so hot. Surely the shadows will be feeling lethargic today.”

“And if things get bad, we can just bail,” Akira said. He got to his feet, and Makoto did the same.

“Okay,” she said. “How far do we need to go?”

Akira motioned for her to follow. They left Leblanc, informing Sojiro in the vaguest of terms that they were going to go hang out somewhere cool for a while, and walked through the backstreets of Yongen-Jaya until they reached a small alleyway tucked beside a vacant building, a place isolated enough that they could activate the app without drawing any undue attention.

Mementos was achingly humid, the air as thick as fog and hot as steam. The three Thieves felt like they were swimming as they pushed their way through the lobby, coming to a halt at the top of the escalator leading further down into the subway. Then, for a long moment, they stood there, unmoving.

“So…” Morgana said, “where to?”

“Huh? Don’t you know?” Makoto asked.

Morgana gave a start, whipping his head around to look at Makoto. “H-how would I know?” he asked.

“Well, his Palace is gone, so he can’t be there,” Makoto said. “You’re from this place, aren’t you, Mona? Where do shadows go after their Palaces have been destroyed?”

“I…!” Morgana bit his lip, casting his eyes around frantically. “Um, Joker? This was your idea, wasn’t it? So where’re we going?”

It had seemed obvious at the time that Mementos was their destination, but now that they were actually here, Akira found himself questioning _why_ he’d thought that.

“We destroyed Kaneshiro’s Palace,” he said slowly, “but we didn’t kill his shadow, and we know he didn’t accept his shadow and gain a Persona… so his shadow must have come back to Mementos. Right?”

“This place _is_ society’s Palace… your logic makes sense,” Morgana said. “Presumably, this is where all shadows live until their hearts become distorted enough to form a fully-fledged Palace…”

“So this should be like locating one of our lesser targets, then,” Makoto said. “Mona, can you try to scout for him like that?”

“Right… okay.” Morgana got down on one knee and placed a paw on the ground, closing his eyes and concentrating. His ears twitched, and he grunted in exertion, squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as possible, but then his arm began to shake, and he collapsed to the ground.

“Ugh… it’s no good. I can’t sense him,” Morgana said.

“So he’s not here?” Makoto asked. She stooped down and offered Morgana a hand, pulling him back to his feet.

“No, it’s not – you guys don’t understand,” Morgana said. “Mementos is huge… picture the biggest Palace you can think of, and then go even bigger than that. Kaneshiro probably _is_ here, but… he’s so far away, even I can’t tell where he might be.”

“What about Kamoshida or Madarame?” Akira asked. Morgana looked thoughtful for a moment, but then shook his head.

“Nope… nothing.” He growled, balling up his paw into a fist and rapping it against his forehead. “I’m sorry…”

Makoto pulled out her phone, opening the Meta-nav to its map of Mementos. “Every time we get a little farther, this map just updates to show the new path we’ve found… there’s no indication of where it ends. Does it even _have_ an end?”

“I don’t know,” Morgana said. “When I try to get a feel for Mementos, it’s not like I hit a wall or anything. There’s nothing stopping me from scanning, it just… never ends.”

Around them, Mementos was silent, offering them neither confirmation nor denial.

“…I suppose there’s no point in hanging around here any longer,” Makoto finally said. “Shall we head back?”

“Wait a second,” Akira said, holding up his hand.

The gears in his mind were spinning in what he knew, rationally, was a very dangerous direction, but he just couldn't stop himself. What they needed right now was more information, and there were precious few sources of knowledge about the Metaverse available for them to tap. The Velvet Room might offer _some_ answers – for Akira, anyway – but the twin wardens seemed wholly ignorant of anyone but Akira himself.

Someone who had been around for as long as Morgana, someone who had been exploring this place just as they had… Akira had an idea of where to look.

The others weren’t going to like this.

Although Mementos was full of nothing but ambient noise, Akira decided to take a gamble anyway, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting out, “I know you were listening, Crow, so would you come out and talk?”

Morgana screwed up his face in confusion. “Huh? What’re you saying, Joker?”

“Just hold on,” Akira said softly.

Several tense, heavy seconds passed before they heard something drop to the ground and land just behind them, and collectively, the trio turned around. Makoto gasped, and Akira was suddenly struck by just how dangerous Crow seemed, looming behind them, all dark colors and sharp edges – Akira had grown so accustomed to his appearance by now that he’d forgotten what Crow must look like to the unfamiliar.

“Joker, what… _who_ is this?” Makoto asked him in a harsh whisper, though not quietly enough to escape Crow’s notice.

“You didn’t tell your friends about me?” he asked. He pressed his hand against his chest and grinned a terrible, toothy smirk. “I’m hurt, Joker… I thought we had something special.”

Makoto’s mouth parted in shock. “You… your mask,” she murmured, eyes wide. “It’s… black.”

“Very astute,” Crow said dryly.

“This energy… wait!” Morgana jumped in place, his paw hovering over his slingshot’s holster. “You’re him, aren’t you? Back in Kaneshiro’s Palace, and here in Mementos… the one following us, the one I kept sensing was _you!_”

“And if I am?” Crow asked in reply. “What are you going to do about it, you little monster cat?”

Morgana growled. “I’m not a monster and I’m not a cat, damn it!” he snapped, pulling his slingshot back and launching a pellet directly at Crow.

“Ow!” Crow flinched, raking a hand over his face where he’d been hit. “Damn insolent pest!” he snarled at Morgana before turning his furious eyes on Akira, instead. “What do you want from me this time, Joker? Did you bring your teammates here just to berate me?”

“No,” Akira said, calmly taking a step closer and holding his hands up in a placating gesture. “You heard everything we just said, right?”

“What if I did?”

“So, do you know? Where a shadow goes after its Palace has been destroyed?”

Crow straightened up, the anger leaving his expression to be replaced by vaguely disinterested contemplation.

“I do not,” he finally said. “As you may have gathered, my targets don’t tend to survive an encounter with me. I’ve never destroyed a Palace while leaving its occupant alive.”

“The mental shutdowns, then…” Makoto’s voice was shaking, though whether with fear or with fury, it was impossible to say. “That’s you. All those people… you killed them.”

Crow sneered at Makoto before turning sharply on his heel. “I answered your question,” he said. “Now, I believe we’re finished here.”

“Wait!” Akira called, but Crow continued to retreat. Akira balled his hands into fists and shouted the only thing he could think of to make him stop: “How’d you get your power, Crow?”

It worked. Crow stopped in his tracks, his head turning just a hair back towards the Thieves.

“…what?”

“Your Persona. How’d you get it?”

Crow grit his teeth and said nothing.

“Do you remember how the app activated for the first time?” Akira pressed on. “Because I don’t. It just happened. I didn’t summon it, and I didn’t turn it on; it dragged me to the Metaverse and I didn’t even have to do anything.”

The silence around them was deafening, physically palpable, like bundles of cotton pressing up against Akira's ears and muffling him to the world.

“It was… the same for me,” Crow finally admitted.

“How long ago?” Makoto asked.

“…About two and a half years.”

“T-two and a half?” Morgana yelped. “So that means…”

“That’s about the same time you woke up, huh?” Akira asked.

“Hmm? What do you mean?” Crow asked, his interest finally piqued enough to turn around fully.

“This guy,” Akira gestured to Morgana, “is from here. But he doesn’t remember much; the last thing he remembers is waking up in Mementos.”

“And that was nearly three years ago,” Morgana said.

“…is that so.”

“Something happened here, three years ago,” Akira said. “Something that got us all involved in this world, and we don’t know anything about it. And neither do you, right?” He took another step closer to Crow. “We could cover a lot more ground if we had someone experienced helping us.”

“Joker!” Makoto and Morgana exclaimed at once.

“You cannot be serious right now,” Crow said.

“Deadly serious,” Akira said. “I’m not saying he should join us,” he added, this time to Makoto and Morgana, “but we have information we could share. He didn’t know about stealing treasure… there’s a lot we could learn from each other.”

“Joker,” Makoto said, grabbing him by the shoulder and yanking him back, “this is _not_ a decision for the three of us to make alone. We need to go and regroup with the others.”

“Yes, _leader_,” Crow said, disdain saturating his tone, “you’d best go consult with all your other Thieves. Working with someone like me might tarnish your impeccable reputation, after all.”

Akira sighed. “Will you at least think about it?”

“Oh, if you’re offering to let me use you for information, you won’t hear me complaining. This decision is entirely yours to make,” Crow said. He waved a hand in the air and began to walk away once again. “Well, you know when I’m here, Joker,” he called back to them. “Do what you will.”

They waited and watched as Crow got farther and farther away, until the inky darkness of Mementos had consumed him completely, and he was gone. Silently, Akira opened the Meta-nav app and brought the trio of Thieves back to reality.

“So,” Makoto said once they were safely back in Yongen-Jaya, where it was impossible for Crow to eavesdrop on them, “when were you planning on telling us you’d made contact with the one in the Black Mask?”

Akira pursed his lips and didn't answer.

“Akira!” Makoto snapped, glaring sternly at him. “That was _incredibly_ reckless of you! What if he had decided you were a threat – what if he had killed you? None of us would have known what happened to you.”

“I didn’t want to worry anyone,” Akira said. “Besides, you saw him; he’s practically our age. He’s dangerous, but he’s not… _crazy_. I can feel it.”

“I admit, he’s not what I expected,” Morgana said. “I assumed he’d be a hardened criminal… but he kind of looked like us, didn’t he?”

Makoto groaned, massaging her temple in frustration. “Honestly, he… the thing that stood out to me was that he seemed so _familiar,_” she said. “It’s strange. We only just spoke, but I can hardly remember his voice now.”

“That’s because he was disguised,” Morgana said. “You’ve never had this problem because we Thieves know each other’s real identities, so our memories from reality persist even when we put on our masks. But with Crow, he doesn’t want you to know his identity, so you can’t remember his voice. His mask was affecting our subconscious, and we didn’t even realize it.”

“Do you really think it’s safe for us to ask someone like him for help, Akira?” Makoto asked. “I don’t like this, and I don’t think the others will, either.”

“I know it’s not ideal,” Akira said, “but I think we’re in over our heads. Even if it’s just for the time being, having another Persona-user to help us explore Mementos would be advantageous.”

“We shouldn’t make a decision without consulting the others,” Morgana said. “But if it means getting more insight into where I came from, well…”

He looked up at them, resolution shining in his eyes.

“This might be a concession we have to make.”


	7. the Wildcards

* * *

  
“You WHAT?”

Wisely, Akira had waited until Ryuji was no longer drinking his soda before revealing the purpose of this afternoon’s meeting, because the moment the words “I want us to team up with the Black Mask” left his mouth, Ryuji reacted exactly as one would have expected.

“As he said, Akira has made contact with the other Metaverse-user we’ve heard about,” Makoto repeated, running one hand over her face in exasperation. “Furthermore, he believes it would be… _useful_ for us to work alongside him, at least for the time being.”

“That’s, uh…” Ann glanced from Akira and Makoto to Ryuji and Yusuke, looking for a cue to follow but finding none.

“So then, we were correct in our assumption that the mental shutdowns are linked to the Metaverse?” Yusuke asked, carefully skirting around the main issue as he tried to make sense of it.

“I’m not surprised,” Morgana said. “Mental shutdowns are definitely the result of a shadow’s death. As for the psychotic breaks…”

“It’s his Persona’s special ability,” Akira said, and then, before anyone could question him: “I’ve seen it happen.”

Yusuke hummed in thought. “How mysterious… he even has a Persona.”

“And you want us to team up with a psycho like that? A _murderer?_” Ryuji asked, mouth agape.

“A hitman,” Akira corrected. “And I do. He awoke to his Persona at around the same time Morgana’s memories begin. I think there’s a connection.”

“It’s true,” Morgana reluctantly agreed, his ears drooping back. “It may seem far-fetched, but I think there’s some significance to it.”

“Okay, but do you _really_ think this is a good idea, Akira?” Ann asked. “He sounds like a super dangerous guy.”

“Yeah! And what if he, like, tries to kill a shadow in front of us?” Ryuji added. “I’m not just gonna let that fly – you know that, right?”

“Please don’t forget that we seriously considered causing a mental shutdown not too long ago,” Yusuke pointed out, which made Ryuji splutter in wordless protest.

“If he tries to murder a shadow in front of us, we’ll simply overpower him,” Makoto said. “There are six of us, after all, and only one of him.”

“As far as we know,” Ryuji muttered.

“No, it’s just him,” Akira said. “He’s too paranoid to work with anyone else.”

At this, Ann frowned. “Then isn’t it kinda weird he decided to work with us?” she asked.

“I’m certain he intends to use this as an information-gathering opportunity,” Yusuke said. “I imagine he finds it very worrying that there are other Persona-users running around the Metaverse; leaving us unaccounted for would be very risky for someone in his… particular line of work.”

“Yusuke’s right,” Morgana said. “Luckily, it’s a two-way street: He might try to learn about us, but we’ll learn just as much about him. Who knows… maybe we’ll even find out why he’s causing all these terrible incidents.”

Groaning, Ryuji slumped over the back of his chair in defeat. “Okay, okay,” he said. “I guess it’s cool that we can keep an eye on him or whatever.”

“I have another reason,” Akira said slowly, and the room went quiet. “I think the Black Mask… I think Crow has a boss. I want to find out who that is.”

“_Crow,_” Ryuji repeated under his breath in the verbal equivalent of an eyeroll.

“You didn’t mention this before,” Makoto noted. “What makes you think so?”

“Because if he isn’t working for someone, then he has no motive,” Akira said. “If you look back at our targets, it’s obvious why we chose them. Crow’s targets… there’s no connection. I don’t think they’re _Crow’s_ enemies.”

“But they are _someone’s_ enemies,” Yusuke said. “Hmm, I see. Suppose someone became aware of the Metaverse without having a way to physically access it… if they came across a person like Crow, then…”

Morgana flicked his tail restlessly. “It’s pretty dangerous that someone villainous enough to employ a hitman found a Persona-user to do their bidding,” he said. “Even disregarding my own existence, it wouldn’t be a bad idea to try and learn more about their arrangement, whatever it is.”

“So,” Akira said, “we’ll tell Crow we want to learn as much as we can about Mementos and the Metaverse – and we do – but our secondary goal is to determine the identity of Crow’s boss. That’s it. We won’t involve him in any changes of heart, and we won’t get involved with… any of his business. Agreed?”

From all around the room, the Thieves gave an unenthusiastic but firm chorus of agreement, which was good enough for Akira.

“So when do we start?” Ann asked. She was acting uncharacteristically fidgety, toying with the tip of her pigtail absent-mindedly. “I’m totally anxious to meet this guy now.”

“He usually goes to Mementos on Thursdays and Sundays,” Akira said, ignoring the suspicious glances that turned his way as he did, “but now that school is out, I’ve seen him on Tuesdays, too. I think that’s when he’s expecting us.”

“Tuesday… tomorrow, then,” Yusuke said.

Ann winced. “That’s cutting it kinda close, don’t you think?” she asked.

“Nah,” Morgana said, shaking his head. “It’s better to capitalize on this kind of momentum quickly.”

“Well then,” Makoto said, “for now, I suppose we have our plan. We’ll meet up tomorrow, mid-morning, as usual… unless there are any other concerns?”

Ryuji sighed. “Nah, nothing that won’t get answered tomorrow, I guess.”

With that, Makoto adjourned the meeting, and one by one, the Thieves left Leblanc. Once he was alone, Akira shut and locked the door behind them with a quiet sigh. Whatever relief he had felt after revealing Crow’s existence to his teammates had been immediately replaced with a new wave of anxiety, and it only grew stronger now that he was alone and preparing for bed.

Maybe he shouldn’t have done this. Maybe it had been a mistake to reveal Crow’s existence to the Thieves, and furthermore, to reveal that Akira had met with him more than once. Perhaps it would have been easier to keep these two parts of his life separate. He was already living a double life – what was one more secret?

“So… Akira.”

Morgana was perched on a small medicine cabinet in Leblanc’s bathroom, watching from a high vantage point as Akira brushed his teeth.

“All those times you disappeared to Mementos without me… you were meeting with that guy, weren’t you? With Crow?”

Akira glanced up at Morgana, then spit out his toothpaste and rinsed his mouth.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he said. He opened the bathroom door and held it for Morgana, who leapt to the ground and made his way upstairs. “You knew where I was the whole time, huh?”

“Well, there were only so many places you could have gone,” Morgana said.

“But you never followed me.”

“No… I wanted to put my trust in you,” Morgana said, jumping up onto the windowsill as Akira turned off the attic light. “Now that I know what you were doing, I guess I understand why you didn’t tell me.”

For a long moment, Akira was quiet, and then he pulled his thin summer blanket up over his knees and said, “He saved me. When I stormed off that first time, I got caught by some shadows, and he took them down for me.”

“What?” Morgana’s ears perked up. “For real?”

“For real.”

“Hmm… and you’re sure this guy doesn’t know who you are?”

“I’m pretty sure,” Akira said, but honestly, he wasn’t. If Crow _did_ know Akira’s true identity, he was playing his cards very close to his chest, but on the other hand, Akira was always careful to check his perimeter before leaving Mementos, and he never lingered long once he returned to reality. So, provided that Joker’s mask had the same distortion effect as did Crow’s, it was highly unlikely Crow had found him out.

Besides, they had promised not to pry into one another’s identity.

“Huh,” Morgana said. “So he’s willing to assassinate shadows, but he’s also willing to rescue complete strangers… he seems like kind of a strange guy, huh?”

_He’s definitely strange,_ Akira thought – a walking contradiction, equal parts vicious and thoughtful, just like his mismatched Personas – and Akira sort of hated that, sometimes. Maybe if he wasn’t so strange, Akira wouldn’t find him so interesting.  


* * *

  
When the Thieves reconvened the next day, the tension between them was still stiff and heavy, but somehow they managed to push their discomfort aside. By the end of the day, they would, with any hope, have forged a partnership that would grant them access to secret information the police could never dream of finding, and that alone was incentive enough to play nice with the rumored Black Mask. Silently, resolutely, they walked through Mementos towards the turnstiles, where – beneath a broken light fixture and half-shrouded in shadow – a figure stood before the subway gates, waiting for their arrival. Akira didn’t need his third eye to know it was Crow; there was no one else it could be.

“Well, well,” Crow drawled, stepping out of the gloom and revealing himself to the Thieves at last. His mask’s sharp points gleamed in the harsh spotlight, causing him to look more menacing than usual, and the toothy grin on his face did nothing but enhance that effect. “Look who it is. Shibuya’s _saviors_. Am I expected to kneel?”

No one responded, the Thieves seemingly stunned by Crow’s abrasive attitude, while Crow himself appeared downright delighted to wallow in the awkwardness he created. Finally, knowing that no one else was going to take that bait, Akira stepped forward, positioning himself halfway in between the Thieves and Crow himself.

“So… this is Crow, the one we’ve been calling the Black Mask,” Akira said. “Crow, you’ve already met Mona and Queen, but this is Skull, Panther, and Fox,” he explained, pointing out each member of the Phantom Thieves in turn.

Crow tipped his nose up, staring them down with a clearly dismissive air.

“Charmed,” he said.

“What the hell,” Ryuji muttered, elbowing past Ann to stand at the front of the group, where he could address Crow more directly. “You’re the one who’s been causing all that shit in the news? _You?”_

“Skull…” Ann began to say, placing a hand on Ryuji’s shoulder.

“No, don’t you give me that!” Ryuji protested, shrugging off Ann’s hand. “If we gotta work with him, I wanna know what the fuck’s his problem!”

Under his mask, Crow’s face scrunched up in confusion. “_My_ problem?” he repeated.

“Yeah, _your_ problem – and don’t try to bullshit us, ‘cuz we know _all_ about what you’ve been gettin’ up to in here.” Ryuji flexed his fingers around the handle of his pipe, visibly tightening his grip. “What, you think just because you’ve got some flashy power that makes it okay for you to fuck with other people’s shadows?”

“So, we’re going to do this right now, are we?” Crow crossed his arms and leaned back against the turnstile. “Fine. Yes, I believe I’m entitled to use my powers as I see fit – after all, they’re _mine_,” he said. His eyes flicked over to Ryuji’s weapon for just a moment before refocusing on Ryuji himself. “You feel the same, don’t you? Manipulating a person’s heart until they feel guilty enough to confess their sins, forcing them to live with that guilt for the rest of their lives…”

“It’s not the same at all!” Ryuji exclaimed, his voice pitching high and shrill. “At least changin’ a heart doesn’t _kill_ someone!”

“That’s right,” Makoto said, and although she wasn’t as openly aggressive towards Crow as Ryuji had been, her voice still had a notably icy tone to it. “Even criminals deserve a chance to redeem themselves.”

“Deserve a chance to be brainwashed, you mean,” Crow said.

“Hey! It’s not like that,” Ann said. “Like… we would have done something about Kamoshida back in the real world if we could have…”

“‘Could’ nothing – we _tried_,” Ryuji said. “And no one fucking listened to us.”

“That’s right! Adults don’t take us seriously. And then with Fox, he…” Ann cut herself off and glanced at Yusuke.

“…without your assistance, I doubt I would have removed myself from that situation of my own volition,” Yusuke said.

“So yeah, dude, get over yourself,” Ryuji said. “You think you can do whatever you want ‘cuz you got a Persona, but look around! You’re not special.”

Something flashed across Crow’s face, but he set his lips into a thin line, effectively masking his expression before Akira could process what it was. Slowly, without a trace of emotion in his voice, he said, “Neither are you.”

Before anyone had the chance to escalate the situation, Akira held up his hands in a plea for peace. “Okay,” he said. “Look, we can discuss our ideologies more later. Let’s call a truce for now.”

“Joker’s right,” Morgana said. “Regardless of how we feel about each other, we met up today so we could explore this place together. Mementos is hiding plenty of secrets… we just need to go deep enough to uncover them. All right?”

At this, Morgana looked to Crow, who pushed off the turnstile and stood up straight.

“I won’t object,” he said.

“Good.” Morgana nodded towards the stairs. “Let’s get going, then. We’ve made it pretty far down now, so if we want to make any new progress, we need to move quickly.”

Slowly, with no small amount of reticence, everyone began to make their way down the stairs – everyone, that is, except for Crow, who remained stationary at the top of the stairs, watching the Thieves from above.

“And where exactly are you going?” he asked.

Ryuji threw a disparaging look over his shoulder. “Is this a trick question or something?” he asked.

“We’re heading into the depths,” Makoto said. “Is there somewhere else you expect us to go?”

“You… don’t tell me you’ve been traveling from the entrance to your destination every time you come here?” Crow asked, his voice tinged with disbelief and a hint of derision.

“Well… yeah,” Ann said.

Crow pinched the bridge of his mask’s nose and sighed roughly. “Open your Metaverse navigator, someone,” he snapped.

The group shared a look, and then Akira pulled out his phone, bringing up the Meta-nav and walking over to Crow.

“Show me your map,” Crow said, and Akira did. “Do you see here,” he said, tapping the lowest visible level of Mementos, “how each path has a name? Now bring up the destination search… and replace Mementos with ‘Chemdah’, and…”

The Meta-nav beeped.

“Beginning navigation,” it said, and then Akira’s vision blurred as the Mementos lobby disappeared from sight. He winced and screwed his eyes shut, straining against the powerful forces that pulled him through the fabric of space until, mere seconds later, his feet were back on solid ground. He blinked, and when his vision cleared, he found himself standing the sickly yellow-green lobby of the Chemdah path alongside all the other Thieves – and Crow, too.

The phone in Akira’s hand beeped again. “A new area has been confirmed in the depths. Updating guidance information,” it informed him. Then the map flickered and flashed, revealing another twisted pathway heading even further down.

“What the hell?” Ryuji exclaimed, scrambling to his feet and peering over Akira’s shoulder to get a look at the map. “We’re all the way down here already?!”

“Woah,” Ann said, genuine awe in her voice. “Why didn’t we think of that?”

“This is… certainly convenient,” Makoto agreed.

“You’re fucking with me, right?” Crow asked, staring at them incredulously. “How have you not figured this out? You’ve had to run down two dozen floors every time you came to visit… are you running marathons for fun?”

“Of course not!” Morgana said, weaving around the other Thieves’ legs to stand beside Crow. “That’s where I come in. Watch and learn!”

Faster than Akira could blink, Morgana was down on the tracks, transforming into a bus and turning sharply on his tires, flashing his headlight-eyes at the rest of them.

“Now, hurry up! Everybody in!” he yelled.

Even behind his mask’s lenses, it was obvious that Crow’s eyes had gone wide, his mouth slack in utter shock.

“You… what…”

Akira pulled on the back door and held it open for Crow.

“I’ll take the back with you?” he asked.

Crow hesitated for a moment, as if waiting for Akira to reveal that this had really been a prank the whole time, but Akira just smiled earnestly until Crow climbed into the car, grumbling to himself all the way. How amusing; Akira had never seen Crow so thoroughly caught off-guard – except, perhaps, for the very first time they met, when Crow had learned Akira could hold multiple Personas – and Akira decided that surprised was a good look for him. Without a harsh expression darkening his face, he was almost cute.

Soon they were speeding off through the dark tunnels with reckless speed, but instead of their usual chatter, the bus was filled with stark, tangible silence. Ryuji was staring at Crow, the suspicion still clear in his eyes and his hyper-attentive posture, and Akira wondered how long he was going to keep up this shtick… though he couldn’t exactly blame Ryuji for his wariness. For his part, Crow was sitting stiffly beside Akira with his knees drawn together, but Akira could see his eyes darting rapidly around the van’s interior, glancing out windows and lingering on the Thieves one at a time, like Crow was trying to memorize every detail he could see.

“Hey,” he suddenly called out, startling Akira and most of the others, who hadn’t expected Crow to be the one to break the silence. “You, cat.”

“I am not a cat!” Morgana growled, his voice coming in loud and clear through the van’s speakers. “I am Mona!”

“_Mona,_ then,” Crow corrected himself. “You said you’re from here, correct? Mementos?”

“Yeah, that’s right.”

“But you must not remember the exact circumstances of your arrival to Mementos, or you’d be more specific,” Crow continued, talking more to himself than to anyone else and affecting a softer, less aggressive tone of voice than he’d been using previously. This wasn’t the first time Akira had seen him act like this; he had behaved much the same when he was trying to determine how the Thieves had discovered Kaneshiro, almost as though the pull of a good mystery could tempt him to drop his antagonistic persona for a moment. “Do you recall anything? Any clues at all?”

Morgana hummed, and the floor of the bus vibrated. “I remember coming out of a room… or maybe a cage? There was a really bright light, too…”

“A cage, hmm?” Crow asked. “I’ve seen plenty of exposed rebar in the cave walls, but nothing so extensive that you could call it a “cage”… and a bright light… I wonder, if you saw it again, do you think you would recognize it?”

“Definitely,” Morgana said. “There’s a kind of feeling I get when I think about where I came from… I know I’d remember it if I found it.”

“So, uh… Crow,” Ann said, turning around in her seat to address him. “It sounds like you know your way around Mementos pretty well, huh?”

“As well as one can when the topography changes as frequently as it does here, I suppose,” Crow said. He was starting to relax a little, the tension dropping from his shoulders as he leaned back more comfortably in his seat, though – like Ryuji – he still seemed hyper-vigilant towards his traveling companions.

“You’ve really been exploring Mementos alone for all this time?” Makoto asked. “It’s amazing you're still in one piece.”

“Ha! Do you think so?” Crow asked. “I’d say the same to you. How a group as large and boisterous as yours has managed to survive this long is a mystery to me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ryuji asked.

Crow waved his hand, dismissively brushing Ryuji’s hostility aside. “With a group this large, you certainly can’t be all that stealthy,” he said. “And this… vehicle… are you telling me you’re truly able to get the drop on shadows in this monstrosity?”

“H-hey, don’t call Mona a monstrosity!” Ann protested.

“As for ambushing shadows, well… you’re about to find out,” Makoto said, easing off the gas and slowing the van to a crawl. Peering out the windshield, Akira could see a shadow lumbering off in the distance, its back still turned to them as they idled just outside its field of vision.

“Prepare yourselves.”

That was all the warning Makoto gave before stepping on the gas pedal, revving Morgana’s engine and surging forward, sending the van crashing into the shadow and splitting it apart, revealing two frail, shriveled Onmoraki. As the shadows groaned and writhed on the ground, trying to get their bearing after the successful sneak attack, the Thieves hurried out of the van, forming a loose semicircle around the perimeter of what would become their battlefield.

Akira adjusted his gloves and began to give his orders, but he hadn’t gotten farther than “Okay, Mona” when he was interrupted.

“Woah, woah, hey, hold on, Joker,” Ryuji said. “I think we need to see the new guy in action.” He strolled over to Crow, pointing towards the Onmoraki with his pipe. “Think you can handle it?”

Though the shadows had gotten to their feet – their weird, vestigial feet, which floated a few feet off the ground – they were nonetheless a pathetic sight, and Akira was certain anyone on the team could take these two shadows without much trouble, something Ryuji must have known; he had picked out a weak shadow on purpose, just to see how Crow would react.

And he reacted precisely as Akira expected. With two fingers, Crow pushed Ryuji’s pipe aside, sneering as he did.

“Them?” he asked, brandishing his sword and taking an offensive stance. “Please. You insult me.”

He lunged forward without hesitation, parrying one of the Onmoraki as it tried to take a swipe at him. He wasted no time, herding the two shadows around with careful strikes of the sword until they were standing side-by-side, and only then did he summon Loki, who billowed above the battlefield, his black and white stripes swimming over his body like a living optical illusion.

On Crow’s order, Loki spread his arms wide, summoning a stunningly bright ball of light, which he lifted into the air and allowed to hover for a second before bringing it crashing down upon the shadows. Akira’s vision went white as a tremendous shockwave rocked the ground, and when the light dissipated, the shadows had been completely obliterated – not a trace of them remained.

Sheathing his sword, Crow sauntered back over to the group. All told, the battle was over in less than a minute, and it seemed as though he was only barely holding himself back from yawning in exaggerated boredom.

“Okay, you made your point,” Ryuji mumbled.

“Yes, very impressive,” Makoto said, with a kind of cool indifference that masked any _actual_ admiration she may have felt towards Crow’s skill. “However, I’m frankly more interested in seeing how you fight as part of a team. You _are_ capable of following orders, aren’t you?”

“That,” Crow said, looking pointedly at Akira, “depends entirely on who is giving the orders.”

“That would be me,” Akira said. He looked from Crow to Ann to Yusuke. “We’re heading into uncharted territory now, so Panther, Fox, and Crow, I want you on the frontlines with me. Mona, you’ll keep navigating, Queen will provide tactical support, and Skull will watch our tail in case we need back-up.”

“Very well,” Makoto said before Ryuji could protest. She pointed the way forward. “The tunnel narrows up ahead, so we’ll need to travel on foot for a while. Lead the way, Joker.”

Following Makoto’s guidance, Akira moved to the head of the pack with Crow right on his heel, with Ann and Yusuke falling into step behind them. If he listened carefully, he could hear Ryuji talking to Morgana – griping about their new companion, probably – while Makoto tried her best to keep them from speaking too loudly, but the windy tunnel masked any other conversations the Thieves may have been having. The only person he could talk to comfortably right now was Crow, who kept pace beside him.

Akira glanced sideways and said, in a loud whisper, “Show-off.”

Crow met his gaze, barely holding back a laugh. “I’m sorry, was I not asked to showcase my abilities?” he asked. “Perhaps you all just need to improve your own skills if I impressed you that much.”

“Who says I’m impressed? I’ve seen you do better.”

“Ah, so you were paying that much attention, at least. Well, the day has barely begun… don’t let your guard down, Joker.”

Crow laughed again, and Akira had to bite his tongue to keep from doing the same. He felt strange; his skin was buzzing like he was coursing with electricity – adrenaline, surely, except he hadn’t done any fighting – and his body seemed so light…

He almost mistook it for anxiety, but no; he recognized a second later that he was feeling _excited_, though he could hardly believe it.

When was the last time Mementos had been honestly _exciting?  
  
_

* * *

  
Shadow traffic was light as they traveled through Chemdah, descending flight after flight of stairs with minimal interruptions. Though they saw some combat, the shadows were hardly dangerous, and Crow barely had the chance to do any fighting at all, let alone to prove himself a valuable party member, at least until they reached the final floor.

Standing before the barrier wall was not the shadow of a human as they had expected, but a simple, ordinary shadow, albeit an extremely massive one. It was vaguely bipedal, holding a rough-hewn club loosely in one hand, and while it must have noticed them as they came down the stairs, it made no move towards them, apparently content to wait for their approach.

Akira surveyed the group. By his estimate, it had been about around three hours since they’d arrived in Mementos – although Crow’s shortcut had saved them immeasurable time, they still had to traverse eight entire floors – but aside from a few scrapes, everyone looked fresh and ready to go.

“Okay, everyone’s all healed up,” Morgana announced. He eyed the large shadow warily and nodded to Akira. “Whenever you’re ready, Joker.”

Motioning for Ann, Yusuke, and Crow to follow him, Akira approached the shadow and drew his dagger. Before he had the chance to strike, however, the shadow dropped its club and began to shake, condensing into a single floating ball of black muck. Akira paused a few feet away and waited for the shadow to take form, but it remained an amorphous lump, hovering in the air and burbling violently until, at last, a grotesque human face pushed its way through the blob’s surface.

It blinked, clearing some goop from its eyes, and then it opened its mouth and uttered a terrible wail. All at once, two more faces sprouted to the left and right of the first, then another, and another, and in mere seconds, the featureless ball had become a floating, multi-faced monstrosity.

“Woah, it’s huge!” Morgana exclaimed. He leapt up onto a broken concrete pillar and quickly scanned the battlefield. “But there’s only one of them… try and surround it! Hurry!”

The team of four split up, Yusuke circling around behind the shadow, while Ann and Crow flanked Akira until they had the shadow covered on all sides. Realizing it was trapped, the shadow spun in place, half of its heads roaring as it shot out a dozen powerful bursts of force energy that nearly knocked Akira off his feet. He coughed, feeling a dull ache in his chest from where he’d been hit, and braced himself against the pain.

Ann was the first to summon her Persona to the battlefield, but as flames began to gather in Carmen’s hand, Makoto suddenly called out to her.

“Panther, wait! No fire; it has a molten core, you’ll just make it stronger… and Fox, be cautious!”

“Uh, okay!” Ann said, dismissing Carmen and brandishing her whip instead. She caught the shadow in one of its many eyes, causing it to screech in pain and breathe a pillar of fire onto her in retaliation. She threw her arms up to shield herself from the fire, and while the shadow was distracted, Crow summoned Loki to try and catch the shadow off-guard – but to no avail. The shadow had too many eyes; it was impossible to take it by surprise.

Slowly, they chipped away at the behemoth, but with every spell, every bullet, every strike of the sword, the monster appeared wholly unaltered – it was hard to tell they were even doing damage. Akira growled in frustration, firing off a spell while dodging another huge gout of flames that came pouring out of a nearby mouth when he heard Yusuke cry out in pain beside him; evidently, he had not been so lucky as to dodge the attack, and the fire knocked him flat to the ground.

“Damn it; Panther, cover Fox!” Akira ordered, falling back from the battle somewhat to call back to the reserve team, “Queen, do you have a weakness yet?”

“It’s – I think it’s weak to bless type attacks!” Makoto shouted back. “But…”

“But Joker doesn’t have a Persona with those kinds of skills right now, does he?” Ann asked.

Currently, Akira did not. But he knew someone who did.

“Crow!” Akira yelled, throwing his hand out towards the shadow. He said nothing else – Crow had heard Makoto’s warning just as he had, so the command was implicit and obvious – but nevertheless, this was a gamble. Given that Akira was also a wildcard, it must have been easy enough for Crow to reveal his true nature to Joker alone, but the other Phantom Thieves were a different story entirely. So then, if he chose to swap to Robin Hood right now…

For just a second, the battlefield went still, as if even the shadow itself wanted to see what would happen. Then Crow snapped his fingers, and seconds later, Robin Hood stood above him, as shining and golden as Akira remembered. He pulled his bow taut and fired off a beam of blessed energy, which pierced the shadow and caused each of its many heads to scream in pain as it dropped to the ground.

“Yes, it’s down!” Morgana exclaimed. “Go, now!”

The four Thieves descended upon the legionous shadow, mercilessly tearing away at its already weakened form until it was summarily defeated, melting into nothing more than a harmless puddle on the ground. Then, once it was clear the battle was well and truly over, Akira let out a sigh of relief, slipping his dagger back into its sheath and adjusting his gloves. His body was battered and bruised, his coat a little singed at the edges, but otherwise he was alive and well.

For the longest time, no one spoke, and when Akira turned back to question why, it became immediately obvious: everyone was staring at Crow, shock on their faces as they realized now what Akira had known since April – that he wasn’t alone, that his ability wasn’t as unique or special as they thought it was.

Akira cleared his throat.

“Uh. So…”

But he couldn’t think of the right words.

Ann took a step closer. Slowly, like she couldn’t decide if she was asking a question or making an observation, she said, “He’s like you.”

“He – yeah.” Akira opened his mouth, closed it again. There was no better way to put it.

“Another wildcard…”

Morgana appeared at Akira’s side, looking first to Crow and then back to Akira. “Joker… you really have a knack for finding people, don’t you?” he asked, smiling warmly, and Akira wondered if maybe _that_ wasn’t his real power; Crow had explored the Metaverse for two years before he happened upon Akira, but Akira had been in Tokyo for barely four months, and yet he’d managed to find so many others with the spirit of rebellion hiding in their hearts…

“All right!” Morgana suddenly exclaimed, turning on his heel and punching a fist out towards the end of the platform. “Enough sitting around. Let’s go open this barrier!”

With Morgana leading the way, the team congregated in front of the smooth, flat cave wall and waited patiently… but after nearly a full minute, the rock still hadn’t moved.

“Am I missing something?” Crow asked.

“Oh, maybe it’s ‘cuz this guy’s here?” Ryuji asked, jabbing his thumb in Crow’s direction. “Hey, step back for a second! You’re screwin’ with the wall.”

Crow took two exaggeratedly large steps backwards, an irritated glare simmering beneath his mask. Even after this, however, it became readily apparent that something else was wrong, because the cave wall remained as impassive as ever.

“What’s going on?” Morgana wondered, walking up to the wall and knocking on it a few times. “We changed Kaneshiro’s heart, and he even made that public apology… shouldn’t the public’s Palace respond to us?”

“I wonder if we waited too long,” Makoto said. “I told you I’ve been keeping up with the news, didn’t I? The only thing people are talking about now is Medjed… it’s possible the public has already forgotten about Kaneshiro’s change of heart.”

Morgana bristled in irritation. “What?! How? It only just happened…”

As the team continued to debate this problem, Crow sidled up beside Akira and quietly asked him, “What the hell are they going on about?”

“Usually when we hit one of these walls, it opens up for us after we change someone’s heart and get the public talking about us,” Akira explained, causing Crow to frown at him.

“What, you rely that heavily on the public’s perception of you, and you never thought to try anything else – to look for a back-up plan in case your popularity waned?”

“We never needed to,” Akira said, shrugging. “Not until now.”

Crow sighed. “You guys really are helpless,” he said, gesturing for Akira to follow him over to the barrier wall. “Come… I’ll show you how to open the door.”

“Huh? You know how, Crow?” Ann asked.

“If he’s been traveling here alone for so long, I suppose it makes sense that he has some way to bypass these walls,” Yusuke said, stepping aside and allowing Crow and Akira to pass.

“I can open them,” Crow confirmed, “and… I believe Joker should be able to, as well.” He stopped about a foot away from the cave wall and then tugged the clawed gauntlet off his left hand. “Take your glove off,” he instructed, “and place your bare hand on the wall.”

Akira shared a look with Morgana, but then complied, taking off his right-hand glove and doing as he was told. The wall was unnaturally smooth and quite warm to the touch, pulsing with rhythmic energy – like a heartbeat.

Crow placed his own hand on the wall and said, “Now, just wait…”

Everyone went quiet, waiting for something to happen, and for a long moment, nothing did. Akira frowned, but just as he was about to ask Crow what was going on, static crackled in his ears, and he heard a voice speak to him:

_ I don’t care… I just don’t care anymore…_

Akira yanked his hand away from the wall, recoiling in surprise. That sound – it hadn’t come from inside his brain; his Personas hadn’t relayed that message him – rather, it seemed to have leapt from the wall to his fingertips, crawling up his arm and into his ear like a whispered secret.

“As I suspected,” Crow said. “We have the same ability, so of course, you can do it, too.”

“What just happened?” Akira asked.

“You said it yourself, didn’t you? This is humanity’s Palace,” Crow explained. “It mimics the human heart, in that way. People build emotional walls around themselves all the time, but we – that is, Joker and I – can reach them through the shadows that populate this place. Once their secrets have been heard, there’s no reason for the walls to remain, and the path will open for us.”

The group stared at Crow.

“…or at least, that’s my theory,” Crow mumbled, turning back to face the wall.

“Huh. Did it hurt, Joker?” Morgana asked.

“No, not really,” Akira said. “I was just surprised, that’s all.”

“Then… I guess it’s worth a shot?” Ann said.

Nodding, Akira closed his eyes, placed his hand again the wall again, and listened. It took a moment before the thoughts came to him, but once they did, they poured into his brain without pause, a deluge of sound and emotion:

_Hackers declared war on the Phantom Thieves? _

_Medjed… they’re really scary… _

_He freaks me out. I’m so glad he’s not in my class; it’s scary enough having him in our SCHOOL, y’know?_

_…I don’t wanna hear about justice from some shady hackers_

_How can I rest when things are going to hell? But what can I do? I’m useless, useless…_

_His eyes are so dull… _

_…he freaks me out…_

_I wish Kamoshida-sensei really had suspended him…_

_…I don’t care what happens, as long as it’s interesting!_

Then the voices became less distinct, blurring together until Akira could no longer differentiate individual words. He registered only _feelings_ – intense hostility, anxiety, and a gaping, empty nothingness that felt as though a black hole had opened up inside his chest…

And then, just as suddenly, it was gone.

As soon as the voices had reached a fever pitch, they faded away, like a subway train rushing past and leaving nothing but wind in its wake. The wall began to vibrate, the rock crumbling under Akira touch, and he hastily took a few steps back, watching as the once-impassable barrier wall turned to rubble, revealing the stairs that would lead them down to the next path.

“I can’t believe it! It really worked – that was _amazing!_” Morgana exclaimed, rushing forward and standing beneath the craggy archway where the wall had once been. He bounced happily on his feet, grinning to himself before he remembered that he wasn’t alone, and his ears fell back in embarrassment. Coughing, he turned around and approached Crow with careful, deliberate steps. “Um. What I meant to say was, it seems you have a great deal of knowledge about this place. Despite your past actions… I’d be happy to explore Mementos with you.”

Crow stared Morgana down, glancing once to Akira and once to the rest of the Phantom Thieves, and then he sighed. “I suppose it’s fine,” he said. “If nothing else, it’s nice not having to think so hard about strategy now that I’m not taking on a group of shadows completely solo.”

“I’m okay with it, too,” Makoto said. “The greater our numbers, the safer we’ll be down here.”

“So then, how will we move forward with this partnership?” Yusuke asked. “I can’t imagine you’d like to exchange contact information.”

“Absolutely not,” Crow said at once. “No, I come here on Tuesdays and Thursdays – Sundays, too, but those are usually reserved for… work.” He grinned sharply. “We managed to meet up just fine today… and my schedule is light now that summer has begun.”

“So you want us to come back on Thursday?” Akira asked, but Crow simply shrugged.

“I’m telling you that’s when I’ll be here; if you want to explore, then all you have to do is show up.” He paused, his eyes drifting over to Akira. “Well then, are we finished for the day? I know from experience that opening a wall for the first time can be draining…”

After taking a second to assess, Akira had to admit he _was_ still feeling dizzy after hearing all those voices, not just from the physical strain, but from the content of the secrets themselves… as absurd as it sounded, he couldn’t shake the feeling that some of them had been about _him_, and it left a strange taste in his mouth.

“It looks like the Meta-nav has registered our progress,” Makoto noted. “If we wanted to leave now, we wouldn’t lose anything.”

“Then we should head back,” Akira said, nodding. He opened up the Meta-nav, wondering if perhaps Crow’s trick would work in reverse, and keyed in “Mementos – Lobby” as their new destination. His phone beeped, the world blurred, and seconds later, they were back in the lobby, a different location than where they’d started – but the lobby, nonetheless.

“Well then,” Crow said. “It was… interesting, getting to see you all in action. And I suppose this won’t be the last time, will it?”

“No,” Akira said. “I suppose not.”

The Thieves paused, waiting and watching as Crow turned his back on them and disappeared, before they themselves returned to reality, arriving just outside Shibuya station. Ryuji and Ann looked around, not-so-subtly scanning the area for a suspicious individual who might have just come from the Metaverse, too, but ultimately seeing nothing of interest.

Ann sighed. “What a weird guy… I wonder who he is,” she said.

“He looked to be around our age, from what I can remember… could he attend Shujin with you all?” Yusuke suggested.

“Ugh, you mean he might already be spyin’ on us? Don’t like that,” Ryuji said, rubbing his hands over his bare arms like he’d suddenly come down with a chill.

“He doesn’t know our identities,” Akira insisted. “Our masks are protecting us.”

“To be honest, I agree with Akira,” Makoto said, though her inflection made it seem as though she was reluctant to say it. “That said… we’ll need to be cautious going forward – especially you, Morgana. You may have to stop accompanying Akira to school.”

“H-huh?” Morgana yelped. “Why? That’s not fair!”

“Because all he has to do is see a talking cat and it’s all over!” Ann said. She reached over Akira’s shoulder to give Morgana some apologetic head scritches. “I’m sorry; I know you like hanging out with us.”

“What if I’m quiet?” Morgana asked, practically begging as he pushed his head against Ann’s hand. “I’ll be quiet as a mouse! And I hate mice, so that’s a big concession!”

“People already know I'm carrying you around; they'd have to be blind not to,” Akira said. “You don’t have to stay home all day, but you probably ought to work on keeping your comments to yourself for a little while, okay?”

The look Morgana gave him just then made it seem as though he could think of no worse fate than that.


	8. Haunted by the Past

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As we are moving into Futaba's arc, this chapter will involve some discussion of suicide (though nothing graphic or specific). Tags have been updated to reflect this.

* * *

  
On Akira’s orders, everyone took the next day off. It was rare that they would return to the Metaverse so quickly when they weren’t actively in the process of infiltrating a Palace, and he didn’t want anyone burning out, especially not in this heat. Besides, everyone deserved a chance to relax, or else to do whatever activities would normally occupy their summer days if they weren’t busy exploring an extra-dimensional world.

As for himself and Morgana, who happily tagged along inside Akira’s backpack wherever he went, they spent the day hopping around Tokyo in order to shore up their Metaverse exploration supplies. With seven people technically on the team now, they would quickly exhaust their energy if they tried to rely on their Personas alone for healing and recovery – luckily, Akira had made a few allies out in Shibuya by now, people who were willing to help him without asking too many questions.

Starting in the Underground Mall, he browsed leisurely in search of things that struck his fancy, although he ultimately found very little aside from some odd-looking vending machine drinks, which he duly purchased… mostly as a joke. More important was his visit to Iwai’s shop, wherein he stocked up on ammo and a few upgraded weapons after spending an hour or so helping Iwai unpack boxes and organize the shelves.

Once his business at Untouchable was finished, Akira stepped back out into the alley, catching sight of the Velvet Room’s glowing blue prison cell from the corner of his eye. It appeared no different than usual, though he noted that its guard was mysteriously absent… but despite this, he passed it by. He didn’t need to fuse anything right now – Arsène was serving him perfectly well – and the sun was so oppressively bright that he wanted to spend as little time outside as possible.

His last stop of the day was to Takemi’s clinic, purposefully chosen because it was the closest to Leblanc: after spending half the day shopping, his backpack was so heavily laden with goodies that Morgana struggled to fit inside, and he wanted to get home as quickly as possible after he had loaded up on fresh medical supplies.

He greeted Takemi at the front desk, hastily explained that he wasn’t here for a medical trial today, and allowed her to lead him into the back room, where she had laid out a half-dozen new medications for Akira’s perusal. Sifting through the gels and healing salves, he found his mind wandering back to Crow again. How had he managed to stay healed up all by himself for over two years? Neither Robin nor Loki possessed recovery spells from what Akira had seen, so Crow must have been keeping himself patched up in some other way… unless he really was as deft as he claimed and never got seriously injured.

Akira quickly discarded that thought, however. No one was _that_ good.

It was mid-afternoon when he returned to Leblanc, his wallet a few thousand yen lighter and his backpack a few pounds heavier. Sweat clung to his skin, and Leblanc’s meager ceiling fans offered him little respite, but it was still better than standing in direct sunlight. He was glad to be home, ready to go upstairs and spend the rest of the day doing nothing at all, but no sooner had the café door closed behind him than Akira heard a voice call out to him.

“Ah, Kurusu-kun – good afternoon.”

Aside from Sojiro himself, there were three others occupying Leblanc today: an elderly man and woman Akira recognized as some of Sojiro’s non-adjacent neighbors, and Goro Akechi, the one who had greeted Akira. He was sitting not at the bar, as he usually was, but at the booth seat closest to the attic stairs, positioned in such a way that he could view the entire café at a glance, the front door included. On the table in front of him sat an old wooden chess board that Akira thought he’d seen sitting on the counter beneath Leblanc’s TV. The pieces were scattered about the board like Akechi had been in the middle of a match, but he wasn’t sitting with anyone else; the only thing occupying the seat beside him was his attaché case.

“Hey,” Akira replied. He waved at Sojiro in passing, stopping beside Akechi’s table. “You play chess?”

“From time to time,” Akechi said. “It’s a good way to keep my hands and mind occupied at the same time. Though I admit, I usually end up playing against myself.”

It was subtle, but to Akira, that sounded like an invitation. “Give me a second,” he said, tapping his fingers on the table before continuing on past Akechi towards the attic. “I’ll be right back.”

Upstairs, Akira dropped his backpack on the ground, causing some of its contents – Morgana included – to spill out onto the floor. Disregarding the mess, he stripped off his sweaty shirt in favor of something light and dry, tossing the old clothes onto what had become a fairly formidable pile of laundry, another mess he chose to ignore for the time being.

“Hey, aren’t you going to put these away?” Morgana asked, carefully side-stepping a roll of thick, gauzy bandages.

“Later,” Akira said. “We have company.”

“Ugh, you mean the detective?” Morgana wrinkled his nose and squinted disapprovingly. “I don’t know how you can stand talking to him for so long. He’s in love with the sound of his own voice.”

Akira shrugged. “You don’t have to come with me, then.”

“But it’s so hot up here…” Morgana whined, lethargically following Akira back downstairs. After taking a quick look around the café and seeing that the two older patrons were on their way out the door, he clawed his way up onto an empty barstool, flopping down and trying to catch as much of the ceiling fan’s breeze as possible.

On the counter, a cup of coffee was waiting for Akira, who grabbed it with a quiet “thank you” directed towards Sojiro before he returned to Akechi’s table. Akechi himself didn’t seem to notice Akira’s approach, his eyes instead glued to the chessboard in front of him, where he had moved a few pieces in the time Akira had been gone.

“Hey, I thought I said to give me a second,” Akira said, sliding into the booth seat opposite Akechi.

“Hm?” Akechi glanced from Akira to the chessboard, his expression falling as realization swept over him. “Oh! I’m terribly sorry; I didn’t realize you – you wanted to play?”

Akira nodded. “If you want an opponent, that is.”

“I – certainly. That would be quite refreshing, I think.”

Akira took a drink of his coffee, watching as Akechi gathered the pieces and returned them to their home positions. He was dressed rather formally this afternoon, wearing a white button-down shirt and a striped tie, with his hair falling neatly around his neck. He must have had work today, Akira thought, and his mind flashed back to the fireworks festival, recalling how relaxed Akechi had seemed in his yukata, with his hair pulled back into a loose ponytail, and how guarded he now seemed in comparison.

They settled into a quiet rhythm, trading moves while Akira sipped on his piping hot coffee. He didn’t think he was doing very well, and admittedly, the fine intricacies of chess strategy were a mystery to him, but then again, he didn’t much care if he won or lost. It was fun simply to play, and although Akechi’s face remained deceptively neutral throughout, there was a new energy to his body language that hadn’t been present when he was playing alone; he obviously enjoyed having a partner to play against.

The game was just getting particularly heated when Akira heard Leblanc’s front door chime. He didn’t let that break his concentration, but Akechi glanced up instinctively, and seconds later, a small, surprised gasp of recognition left him, which was enough incentive for Akira to twist around in his seat and see what had grabbed Akechi’s attention. He figured it couldn’t have been one of Leblanc’s regulars if it incited that kind of reaction from Akechi, and indeed, it wasn’t – the new arrival was Makoto’s sister, Sae. She was wearing the same black suit she’d worn the last time she had visited Leblanc, and she had a leather bag slung over her shoulder, looking like she’d come here straight from the courthouse.

Akechi smiled and raised his voice a little, calling out to her, “Sae-san, hello–”

But instead of replying, Sae held up a hand and shot a stern look at Akechi, silencing him instantly. She strode purposefully over to the counter, stopping in front of Sojiro, who stood up straighter and met her gaze head-on.

“Sakura-san,” she said. “I presume you know why I am here.”

“I couldn’t hope to guess,” Sojiro said tersely. “But you should already know my answer hasn’t changed.”

Sae pursed her lips.

“How’s business, Sakura-san?” she asked.

Sojiro’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and so did Akira’s – both the topic and her tone had shifted so abruptly that even a seemingly-innocuous question like that came off as suspicious.

“I get by,” Sojiro said. “I’ve even got some extra help now, see?” he asked, jabbing his thumb in Akira’s direction. Sae’s attention flickered to Akira for just a moment before returning to Sojiro.

“That’s good,” she said. “Am I to assume that means you’re spending more time at home nowadays?”

Sojiro’s eyes narrowed, but he kept his mouth firmly shut. Even he could see that Sae was trying to lay a trap, though what she intended to gain from it, Akira couldn’t tell.

“Because if you _aren’t_,” Sae began, “and you’re continuing to leave your home unattended for twelve hours a day… well, child services may need to pay you a visit.”

Sojiro gripped the counter tightly with both hands, his knuckles going white from exertion.

“I’ve been in contact with a certain man – Youji Isshiki-san – perhaps you know him?”

“There’s in _nothing_ wrong with my home life!” Sojiro snapped, and although he seemed outwardly composed, Akira could hear how the cold fury in his voice had become tinged by panic. “If you bring that man into this, I swear–”

“Swear all you like,” Sae said calmly, “but believe me when I say that if Youji-san chooses to push for custody, you won’t stand a chance.” She sighed and adjusted the strap of her shoulder bag. “This is your last warning. Cooperate, or I _will_ act.”

Then she was out the door, leaving Sojiro reeling. Akira glanced at Akechi, hoping to share a look of confusion with him, but found the detective watching the door with a pained expression on his face instead. With a huff, Sojiro tore off his apron and haphazardly threw it to the side, rushing past Akira towards the front door.

“Watch the café,” he muttered, and then he, too, was gone, the door chiming softly as it closed again.

Suddenly, the café was dead silent, leaving Akira and Akechi alone with their thoughts. Akira shifted around until he was sitting properly in the booth seat again and asked, “Do you know what that was all about?”

Akechi sighed and picked up one of Akira’s captured pawns, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. “Sae-san believes Sakura-san may have some information he is purposefully withholding from the police,” he said. “It would seem she’s decided the best way to get him to cooperate is by threatening to take his daughter away… I’m disappointed. It’s unlike her to stoop to such methods.”

Akira blinked.

“Daughter,” he said.

“Yes, she – did you not know?” Akechi asked, his attention snapping back to Akira. “I assumed, given Sakura-san is your guardian, that he…”

“I live here, though, not at Boss’s place,” Akira said. “And he’s pretty secretive about his personal life.”

Akechi laughed awkwardly and averted his eyes. “Then perhaps it’s not my place to tell you…”

Akira, however, was not content to leave things at that. He leaned forward and cocked his head to the side curiously, propping his elbows on the table and lacing his hands together, staring at Akechi with a pleading look in his eyes. Almost immediately, Akechi sighed and nodded, his resolve crumbling under Akira’s unwavering gaze.

“Oh… all right, very well. But keep this to yourself, okay?”

He didn’t say anything right away, observing the chess board instead, but once he had picked up his knight and captured one of Akira’s pawns, he began to speak.

“Futaba Sakura is her name… but although she shares Sakura-san’s last name, she is not related to him by blood. Rather, Sakura-san took custody of Futaba-chan after the death of her biological mother.”

The mother of a child who was now in Boss’s care… for some reason, that concept made Akira’s brain itch, like he was on the verge of remembering something important. He tried to recall the last time Sae had visited Leblanc – hadn’t she mentioned a name Akira didn’t know? And then, just now…

“Isshiki?” Akira guessed.

Akechi’s eyebrows rose. “Yes, that’s right… Sae must have mentioned her at some point.” He paused, frowning as Akira captured Akechi’s bishop with an adjacent pawn. “Isshiki-san was a researcher – a cognitive scientist, as a matter of fact. Brilliant; one of the top minds in her field, from what I’ve gathered.”

“Cognitive science, huh?”

“Indeed. Have you figured out the source of Sae-san’s interest yet?” Akechi asked. He smiled like he was happy Akira was following along, but that smile dropped almost immediately, and he continued, “Yes, Sae believes that Isshiki-san’s research may reveal something about the recent psychotic breakdown incidents; however… about two years ago, she – that is, Isshiki-san – committed suicide.”

Akira’s fingers closed tightly around one of his pawns, cold shock washing over him.

“That’s…” He floundered for the right words. “Awful.”

“Mm.” Akechi’s tone turned dull, and he moved his queen listlessly across the board. “It was a dreadful affair, and it hit no one harder than it did Futaba-chan. From what I’ve gathered, she withdrew from the world after the incident, isolating herself from everyone… even from Sakura-san.”

“I had no idea,” Akira admitted.

“That’s not terribly surprising; I imagine it’s something of a sore subject for Sakura-san,” Akechi said. “I only know as much as I do from reading the police report on Isshiki-san’s suicide.”

“So why is she living with Boss?” Akira asked. “Did Isshiki-san not have any living relatives?”

“She must have at least one – this Youji that Sae-san mentioned – but clearly, Sakura-san was able to take primary custody of Futaba-chan despite the existence of this man.” Akechi paused, curling one hand into a fist around his knight before gingerly placing it back on the board. “It’s possible that Youji-san was uninterested in rearing a child… though, to be frank, it is something of a mystery to me why Sakura-san wanted custody of Futaba-chan in the first place. All I know is that Sakura must care for her deeply, or Sae would not think to use her as emotional leverage.”

Akira leaned back in his seat, letting out a long breath. All this time, Boss had been hiding a secret like that, and he still welcomed Akira into his custody, even if only temporarily? It only raised more questions in Akira’s mind.

And if Isshiki-san had been a cognitive scientist…

“Check, by the way,” Akechi said, pointing to his knight, which was in a prime position to take Akira’s king. Akira blinked away his thoughts, moving to capture Akechi’s final knight with one of his own.

“Do you think Boss really is hiding evidence?” he asked.

“Honestly? I don’t, but only because I don’t believe that research exists, at least not in the capacity Sae-san would like,” Akechi said. “Futaba-chan’s mother was in enough pain that she took her own life… it is very possible that she destroyed all of her research before doing so. If Sakura-san says that no original copies of her research exist, I’m inclined to believe him.”

They each grew silent, and after staring at the chessboard long enough, Akira realized that, despite his best efforts, Akechi had checkmated him. It was getting dark outside, too, the sun having finally set far enough that the streetlights had come on. Half-heartedly, Akira tipped his king over, conceding the game.

“We ought to call it there, I think,” Akechi said, sweeping his pieces off the board and into their container for safe storage. Together, they cleaned up the table and returned the chessboard to its original place on the shelf, and then Akechi gathered his personal belongings in preparation to leave. “Thank you for playing with me, however. I had fun.”

“No problem,” Akira said as he walked Akechi to the door. “And thanks for telling me all that.”

“You’re welcome,” Akechi said. “Though… please, I really must ask you not to spread this information around. I told you far more than I should have…”

“It won’t leave this café,” Akira promised, which made Akechi smile.

“All right; I’ll hold you to that. Goodnight, then, Kurusu-kun…”

Once Akechi had left Leblanc, Morgana crept out of his hiding place, jumping up onto the counter, his eyes shining bright and alert.

“Wow… it sounds like the Chief is going through a lot more than we thought, huh?”

“Sounds like it,” Akira agreed. Before he could suggest a reason why, however, his phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out to respond to the text – probably one of the Thieves asking a question about tomorrow’s exploration…

**>>Unknown Number:** Who was that  
**>>Unknown Number:** The one who knew all about Futaba Sakura

Akira frowned. It must have been a wrong number, but that question was too specific, too _targeted_ to be a coincidence. Akira looked around the café, but he knew for a fact that he and Morgana were completely alone. Could this have been Akechi? Akira didn’t have his phone number – but no, this person was _asking_ about Akechi. Cautiously, Akira typed out a reply.

**>>Akira Kurusu:** What? Who is this?

Almost immediately, he received another text:

**>>Unknown Number:** Don’t answer questions with questions  
**>>Unknown Number:** I asked first. Who was that man?

Akira clicked his tongue. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t have responded to a message like this, but the fact that this unknown number knew exactly what he and Akechi had been talking about – during a conversation they had only just finished having – kept him from ignoring the texts. These were murky waters; Akira wanted to keep them talking, see if they wouldn’t reveal something about themselves, but on the off chance this person was dangerous, he didn’t want to compromise Akechi’s identity…

**>>Akira Kurusu:** Just a detective. He works with the police.

There was a longer pause this time.

**>>Unknown Number:** I see

**>>Akira Kurusu:** Answer mine now.

**>>Unknown Number:** Fine  
**>>Unknown Number:** You may call me Alibaba  
**>>Unknown Number:** And you…  
**>>Unknown Number:** You are the one called Joker, are you not?

If Akira had been on edge after the first message, this last one shoved him right over the cliff side; now he was free-falling, his stomach flipping uncomfortably on the way down.

“Hey, Morgana,” Akira said, swallowing around the lump in his throat. “C’mere for a second…”

“Hmm? What’s up?”

Akira placed his phone on the countertop, and Morgana padded over, tilting his head so he could read the messages. Slowly, his ears fell back until they were pressed flat against his head, his pupils going huge and dark.

“Wh-huh? Who is this?”

“I don’t know,” Akira said. “They just messaged me out of nowhere.”

“And they – they know you’re Joker? Are we – is someone spying on us?”

Before Akira could answer, another text appeared on the screen:

**>>Unknown Number:** Answer me

“I don’t want to ignore this guy,” Akira said.

“I – I agree,” Morgana said. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “Try to play it cool for now… maybe we can find out what he wants.”

**>>Akira Kurusu:** Maybe. Why’re you asking?

**>>Unknown Number:** I’ve seen what you do  
**>>Unknown Number:** what you CLAIM to do  
**>>Unknown Number:** Stealing hearts  
**>>Unknown Number:** Changing them  
**>>Unknown Number:** It’s almost impossible to believe  
**>>Unknown Number:** But you know what?

**>>Unknown Number:** I think you’re the real deal

“Where’s he going with this…?” Morgana wondered aloud.

**>>Unknown Number:** So I have a request  
**>>Unknown Number:** As you can see, I have ascertained your identities  
**>>Unknown Number:** ALL of your identities, not just yours, Joker  
**>>Unknown Number:** If you help me, I won’t reveal that information to the public

“T-this is blackmail! Isn’t it? Is it??” Morgana exclaimed.

**>>Akira Kurusu:** Help you with what?

There was a long pause again.

**>>Unknown Number:** I need you to change a heart.  
**>>Unknown Number:** Futaba Sakura’s heart.

“Wha – Futaba again? Does Futaba-chan even have a Palace?” Morgana asked.

Akira thumbed away from the messenger app for a moment and pulled up the Meta-nav instead. He held down the speaker button and said, “Futaba Sakura.”

The phone beeped. “Candidate found.”

Morgana shook his head in disbelief. “I don’t believe it… just who is this girl?”

**>>Akira Kurusu:** I need to speak with the other Thieves first.  
**>>Akira Kurusu:** Can you give me some time?

**>>Unknown Number:** That is acceptable.  
**>>Unknown Number:** I’ll contact you again in 24 hours.  
**>>Unknown Number:** Be ready.

Akira tried to type out another message, but the text bounced – he could no longer reply.

“This is not good,” Morgana stated. He was pacing around the counter, his tail swishing in agitation. “We need to tell the others about this as quickly as possible…”

Looking around the dark café, a thought struck Akira, one that left him feeling even more nauseous than before.

“Hey, let’s go upstairs,” he suggested, scooping Morgana up before he could protest. He locked the front door and switched off the lights, silently retreating into the attic, at which point he set Morgana down on the couch and immediately began inspecting the room. He didn’t know what he was looking for, exactly – stray wires? The glint of a glass camera lens? – but after a few solid minutes of searching, he came to the conclusion that the only things populating this attic were Akira’s own possessions and dusty old bags of junk.

“Do you think Leblanc has been compromised?” Morgana asked him.

“Hard to say,” Akira said, sighing and flopping down on the couch beside him. “That person – Alibaba, I guess – knew I’d been talking about Futaba Sakura, but I don’t think they could see Akechi, or they wouldn’t have asked who he was. And I don’t see anything up here, either.”

“Between this and Crow, we really DO need to start keeping a lower profile.” Morgana sighed. “Maybe Makoto was right… maybe I’m the problem.”

“It’s not you, Morgana,” Akira assured him. “That person only mentioned things I had said. To them, you must have sounded like an ordinary housecat.”

“Yeah? …yeah.” Morgana nodded to himself. “Still, this is strange… I never thought we’d end up blackmailed into changing a person’s heart. And someone like Futaba-chan… so far our targets have all been adults, but it sounds like she’s about your age, doesn’t it?”

“Sounds like it,” Akira agreed. “And she has a Palace.”

“_And_ she has a Palace,” Morgana said. His whiskers drooped, and he lowered his head. “Okay, well… there’s no sense in trying to figure this out right now, and we shouldn’t worry everyone else so late at night, so we’ll just have to fill them in tomorrow – before we go to Mementos. I think we’re safe for now… will you be able to sleep?”

Akira wasn’t sure. He settled into bed, turned out the lights, and closed his eyes… but sleep never came to him, his mind overflowing with questions to which he had no good answers.  


* * *

  
Before heading into Mementos the next day, Akira and Morgana briefly caught the other Thieves up on the previous night’s events, to their slow, dawning horror that someone may have been spying on them in Leblanc, which had been a safe haven up until now.

“Okay, so that’s definitely Crow, right?” Ryuji asked after hearing the full story. “We’re all agreed on that?”

“What?” Morgana squinted at Ryuji. “Why him?”

“’Cuz we just fucking met him and then this happens! Who else could it be?”

“Correlation and causation do not have to be linked,” Yusuke said. “However… you have to admit, the timing is very suspicious.”

“I don’t think it’s him,” Akira said. “If Futaba-chan is really a hermit, then only a few people even know she exists, and Crow… I think his efforts tend to be focused elsewhere.”

“Who, then?” Makoto asked.

_That_ was the question of the hour – the question that had kept Akira up all night, tossing and turning as he tried to put together the pieces of this puzzle without seeing the box. At some point, he’d reached a conclusion, one he’d written off at three in the morning as conspiratorial nonsense, but now, revisiting the thought in the light of day, it didn’t seem so crazy…

“Hear me out,” Akira said slowly. “I think this Alibaba might be Futaba herself.”

“What?!” Ryuji exclaimed. “No way.”

“Wait, seriously?” Ann asked.

Yusuke frowned in thought. “You mean to say that Futaba-chan wants us to steal _her own_ heart?”

“It’s either that, or it’s Sojiro, and…” Akira trailed off, shaking his head. That was simply not the case.

“But… this is Boss’s daughter we’re talking about,” Makoto said. She had gone unnaturally pale, her expression tight. “How could someone in Boss’s care become such a terrible person as to spawn a Palace?”

“Well, Palace-owners don’t have to be _evil,_” Morgana reasoned. “A Palace is only born from a distorted heart. If Akechi is right, and Futaba shut herself off from the world after her mother’s death, well…”

“That sounds pretty distorted to me,” Akira finished.

“Damn,” Ryuji whistled. “And she’s got a Palace, too?”

“Yep,” Morgana said. “We confirmed it last night.”

“Do you have any idea as to her keywords?” Yusuke asked. To this, Akira had to shake his head, and Yusuke nodded in sympathy. “I see. If she has truly locked herself away, then it will be hard to gather information about her.”

“Couldn’t we ask Boss?” Ryuji suggested. “I mean, he’d know the most, right?”

“I’m not so sure he’d be comfortable telling us anything,” Makoto said. “If he hasn’t said anything about Futaba-chan to Akira, then we have even less of a reason to think he’d tell _us_ anything.”

“Well, Alibaba said they’d contact you again tonight, right?” Ann asked, turning to Akira. “So if they really are Futaba-chan, we can try and ask her then.”

“Lady Ann is right,” Morgana said. “You’ve all been briefed on the situation, but there isn’t much we can do about it right now… so we may as well keep exploring Mementos, like we planned.”

They entered the Metaverse without much fanfare, and when they arrived in the Mementos lobby, Crow wasn’t there yet, giving the Thieves a few minutes to themselves. Morgana and Makoto examined the Meta-nav app, trying to find any other hidden features it might hold, while Ryuji and Yusuke helped each other stretch out, limbering up in preparation for a fight. Ann, meanwhile, lingered towards the back of the group, looking at Akira like she wanted to say something.

Akira caught her eye and asked, “What is it?”

Ann jolted, surprised she had been called out. “It’s just, uh…” She paused, twisting her whip between her hands. “You really don’t think Alibaba could be Crow? Like, really really?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Akira said. “I told you already, I don’t think it suits him.”

“And… you’re sure you’re not just saying that because you’re kinda in to him?”

…

_What._

“I’m… I’m not _in_ to Crow,” Akira said, taking a few steps closer to Ann and dropping his voice to a near-whisper. “I don’t know who he is; I don’t even know what he looks like. What – why would you—”

“Right! Right, okay,” Ann said, holding her hands up. “Sorry; I just forgot you’re kinda flirty as Joker.”

“I wasn’t – when was I _flirting?_”

“The only other time we’ve met him, duh! But okay. If you say it doesn’t mean anything, then I believe you,” Ann said, nudging him in the arm with her elbow, an action that hardly instilled confidence in Akira. He was beyond embarrassed, his heart beating so fast he could feel it in his ribcage, and he wondered, was everyone _else_ thinking the same thing? And since when was he “flirty” in the Metaverse; what did that even mean?

“You seem somewhat agitated this morning, Joker.”

Akira nearly leapt out of his skin at the sound of an unexpected voice so loud and so close, and he whipped around to find Crow standing there, not three feet behind him; he must have crept up while Akira and Ann were talking.

“Crow! God… were you eavesdropping?” Akira snapped, hoping he came off as accusatory instead of defensive, and hoping that the tips of his ears weren’t as red as they felt.

“How harsh… wouldn’t you like to know,” Crow said. He hummed, looking Akira up and down appraisingly. “You really are tense… were you that troubled by Medjed’s threats?”

Medjed? Akira frowned; he hadn’t given Medjed much thought since Makoto brought them up the other day.

“The hell’re you talkin’ about, dude?” Ryuji asked. By now, Crow’s entrance and Akira’s outburst had gathered the attention of the other Thieves, who grouped up beside Akira and Ann. “Medjed’s old news, ain’t it?”

“You… do you not know?” Crow asked. Slowly, his neutral expression morphed into a cruel, delighted smirk.

“The last thing I remember was Medjed ‘declaring war’ on us or whatever,” Ann said. “Then they just kinda disappeared, right?”

“I’ve been watching the news when I can,” Makoto said. “People have been talking about Medjed, but the group itself hasn’t made another move – at least, not to my knowledge.”

By now, Crow was outright laughing at them, bringing one clawed hand up to cover his mouth.

“Something you’d like to share, Crow?” Akira asked dryly.

“Oh no, I…” Crow took a deep breath, trying to stem his laughter. “I couldn’t spoil the fun, in that case.” He smiled at them with his lips tightly shut. “Ah, well then. You’re all here, so shall we go?”

“…sure. Let’s get going,” Akira said. There would be no reasoning with Crow in this state – he was too obviously amused at their ignorance to tell them anything – and besides, it wasn’t as though they had much of a choice. There was no phone service down here, so unless they wanted to turn right around and leave, they would have to wait until they returned to the real world to figure out whether or not Crow was just fucking with them.

It was easier getting started today now that they didn’t have to trouble themselves with introductions, and as far as Akira could tell, most of the Thieves had made their peace about working alongside Crow, who likewise seemed to have grown bored of mocking the Thieves to their faces… at least for the time being. They warped down to the next path and began to scour the caverns, seeking a way down.

Every path of Mementos looked more or less the same, though the walls in Kaitul were a deeper green than they had been upstairs. The ground was scuffed from repeated travel, and the train tracks that snaked through the tunnels looked ready to fall apart, their wooden rails old and rotting, but the most striking feature of this path were the thick black roots that traced across the tunnel walls like wild kudzu, taking hold wherever there was a crack in the stone. Those roots had been an omnipresent feature of Mementos since the very beginning, of course, but they seemed more pronounced down here: larger, stronger, the tendrils pulsing in time with Akira’s heartbeat. Now that he had touched the cave walls for himself, Akira couldn’t help but see Mementos as something _living_, the roots like veins carrying black ichor all the way back to the heart of this beast… wherever that was.

They didn’t even get much farther that day; with Akira’s mysterious blackmailer on their minds, not to mention the new worry that Medjed may have done something worthy of note, the Thieves were far too distracted to fight properly, and it didn’t help that Kaitul was so dark that they could either travel safely, or they could travel quickly, but not both. After a few hours, they’d barely made it down six floors. This level, at least, was relatively quiet, and while they were settling in to take a rest, Crow turned on them and sighed.

“Look, just go back home already, why don’t you?” he said, crossing his arms and looking them over disapprovingly. “I’ll keep progressing to the end of this route… you can catch up to me when your heads aren’t in the clouds.”

“Or,” Ann suggested, “you could save us the trouble and just tell us what you know…”

“Would you believe me if I did?” Crow asked in return. He scoffed. “Please. You need to see it for yourselves.”

“Crow’s right,” Akira said, because no one else on the team would admit it, even if it was true. “Besides, we made it to a new checkpoint. We don’t have to rush ourselves down here.”

“I have no qualms about turning in for the day,” Yusuke said. “But… you’re going to keep exploring, Crow?”

“That’s right,” Crow said. “Unlike some people, I have nothing to distract me.”

“If you plan on getting ahead of us…” Makoto began to say.

“Relax,” Crow said, rolling his eyes at Makoto’s obvious suspicion. “I’m not lying – I won’t go any farther than the end of the path. It’s easier to break down the wall with Joker’s assistance, anyway.”

“Plus, Queen, didn’t we find a way to sync our Meta-navs earlier?” Morgana said. “So there’s no harm in letting Crow go ahead.”

“Ugh, fine,” Ryuji muttered, throwing his hands up in the air. “Let’s just get out of here.”

The Thieves collected themselves to leave the cave, but before they parted ways, Akira turned back to Crow.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he said.

Crow smirked at him. “Bold words coming from _you_, Joker,” he said. “But fine… if I get in trouble, I promise to do the exact opposite of whatever you would do.”

Grinning, Akira waved him off and moved to join the other Thieves. Just before they were transported back to the lobby, Akira noticed that Ann was trying to catch his eye, and he consciously avoided her gaze, dropping the smile from his face. To her credit, Ann didn’t say anything to him, not even once they were back in reality and walking back to Leblanc, but still, Akira fought to keep his face expressionless. He certainly didn’t need to add any more fuel to her conspiracy theory – although if there was one thing Akira knew with absolute certainty, it was that he _wasn’t_ into Crow.

Please.  


* * *

  
Sojiro regarded them with a mildly curious eye as the Thieves made their way back into Leblanc that afternoon. The café was empty – most customers preferred to avoid the summer heat rather than make the trip out to see Sojiro – and to fill the silence, Boss had turned on the television, which almost immediately caught Akira’s attention: it was perpetually tuned in to a local news station, and what else were they reporting on but Medjed itself?

Instead of sitting down or heading up to the attic, the Thieves grouped up near the bar and stared intently at the TV screen, on which a single news anchor was pictured. She sat in an adequately-lit sound studio, her expression serious and solemn, while over her shoulder, the news station displayed an image of Medjed’s logo, accompanied by the group’s name typed neatly below it.

“The hacker-activist group called Medjed, which just a few weeks ago issued a challenge to the Shibuya-local vigilante group known as the Phantom Thieves, released another statement late last night,” the woman said.

“Medjed, huh,” Sojiro commented, clearly unimpressed. “I’m getting real tired of hearing that name everywhere.”

“The message, which was written in English and posted to Medjed’s official website, reads as follows.” The anchorwoman cleared her throat and began to read. “We are disappointed in the people of Japan and their belief in the Phantom Thieves’ false justice. Hence, we shall proceed with our plan to cleanse Japan. This process will commence—”

In the middle of her speech, however, the TV suddenly cut off, switching over to some kind of daytime drama. Collectively, the group cried out, causing Sojiro to startle and nearly drop the remote control.

“Woah; what’s with that reaction?” he asked.

“It’s uh – just, could you turn it back for a minute, please, Boss?” Ann asked. “We’re just, um… really interested in current events?”

Sojiro furrowed his eyebrows, but he did as requested, flipping the TV back to the news report just in time to catch the tail-end of Medjed’s statement.

“…if these demands remain unmet. The future of Japan rests with the Phantom Thieves. We are Medjed. We are unseen. We will eliminate evil.”

The woman took a short breath, turning her eyes back to the invisible audience before her. “Authorities say that this statement is not cause for panic,” she said. “Any threats to Japan’s economy will be treated with the gravity they deserve…”

The news report continued after this, but Akira stopped paying attention. So had Makoto; halfway through the news report, she had pulled out her phone, her thumb flying rapidly over the keyboard until she had navigated to Medjed’s website, which contained another long block of text.

“Did we miss anything?” Akira asked her.

Makoto frowned. “I’m not sure… Ann, could you…?”

“Huh?” Ann perked up, tearing her eyes from the news report. “Oh, sure – here, let me see…”

She took the phone from Makoto and quickly scanned the page, her eyes darting back and forth as she read. “‘We are disappointed with the people of Japan’ – we heard all that on TV already… oh, August 21st. That’s when their ‘cleanse’ is going to happen, or whatever.”

“Have they made any demands?” Yusuke asked.

Ann winced. “They want us – err, they want the, uh, Phantom Thieves to… reveal their identities to the public.”

Below them, Morgana sighed. “Seems like that’s what everyone wants nowadays… what part of ‘Phantom Thief’ are these people not understanding?”

While Akira was still formulating his own opinion on the matter, his phone vibrated in his pocket, and a spike of anxiety pierced his heart. Given that all of his friends – all those who had his phone number, at least – were currently gathered in Leblanc alongside him, there was only one person this could be…

**>>Unknown Number:** Well? Have you decided?

Akira tapped Makoto on the shoulder and tilted his phone in her direction. Her eyes went wide, and she in turn got Ann’s attention, and soon all four of the other Thieves were crowded around Akira, looking over his shoulder as Alibaba continued to inundate him with texts.

**>>Unknown Number:** I can sweeten the deal.  
**>>Unknown Number:** You’re worried about Medjed, right?  
**>>Unknown Number:** I can take care of them for you

“Can they really do that?!” Ryuji yelped.

“What’s it say? What’s it say??” Morgana pleaded from his spot on the ground.

“They must have heard the TV report,” Makoto said, dropping her voice to a whisper. “You might be right that Leblanc has been compromised…”

“But do you really think they could be… y’know?” Ann asked in the same low tone as Makoto. “If everything we heard about her has been true, could she really have the resources to stop Medjed? Or even to reveal our identities?”

From the other side of the counter, Sojiro watched them whisper back and forth with a growing look of concern on his face. “You guys seem pretty upset about all this,” he commented. “Trust me, this isn’t anything to worry about… these kinds of groups just live for attention. They’re all talk.”

“O-oh!” Ann exclaimed, like she had forgotten they weren’t alone. “Right… um, thanks, Boss.”

Akira looked from the phone in his hand to Sojiro. There was only one person who could clear up the mystery of Futaba Sakura once and for all, and he was standing not five feet away… but if Akira was being honest, he really didn’t want to pry into Sojiro’s personal life. When Akira’s parents had decided that his reputation was more trouble than he was worth, Sojiro had taken him in, barely asked him any questions, and even granted Akira a remarkable amount of personal freedom despite the assault charge that loomed over his past. So Akira didn’t want to upset Sojiro; if anything, he wanted to _help_ the man.

But right now, the Thieves needed help, too, and somehow, Akira got the feeling that their circumstances were more closely linked than he’d initially assumed.

“Hey, Boss,” Akira said slowly. “Could we ask you something?”

Sojiro narrowed his eyes. “I don’t like any request that starts out like that,” he said.

“No, nah, it’s nothin’ bad or anything!” Ryuji insisted, glancing at Akira as if to confirm that they were really about to do this. “It’s just, uh…”

“It’s about what that prosecutor woman said the other day,” Akira finally stated.

This obviously was not the response Sojiro had been expecting, and he reeled back in shock. “That’s – it’s none of your concern,” he said.

“If she keeps showing up at Leblanc and harassing you, then it’s my concern,” Akira said. He could sense anger raging beneath Sojiro’s calm exterior, but if he stopped pushing now, he might never get his foot in the door again. “If she tries to approach me when I’m alone… I need to be prepared to counter her.”

“It’s really nothing,” Sojiro said, more firmly this time. “That woman, she… she’s just…”

He cut himself off, unable to find the right words – or perhaps simply unwilling to say them – and Makoto stepped forward hesitantly.

“Boss, if I may… this whole incident, it’s about Futaba-chan, isn’t it?”

Instantly, Sojiro’s tough façade crumbled.

“How did you…?”

The phone in Akira’s hand vibrated, and he looked down.

**>>Unknown Number:** Stop!  
**>>Unknown Number:** Don’t press him on this

“I didn’t pry on purpose,” Makoto said. “I’m just, well, Prosecutor Niijima, she’s… my older sister, and I –”

“Y-You’re related to Niijima?” Sojiro balked. He studied Makoto’s face for a moment, running a hand over his hair. “Ah… I can see the resemblance, now that you mention it…”

Akira looked down at his phone.

**>>Unknown Number:** We can drop this  
**>>Unknown Number:** I won’t reveal your identities  
**>>Unknown Number:** Just leave it alone

“We want to help,” Akira said aloud, his words meant for Futaba as much as they were for Sojiro.

“Help?” Sojiro nearly laughed in disbelief. “No offense, but… what do you think you can do? You have no idea what’s going on.”

“Only ‘cuz you haven’t told us!” Ryuji said. “But like, if she’s tryin’ to say you’re a bad dad, or something…”

“Yeah!” Ann agreed. “If that’s what Prosecutor Niijima is trying to say, then we could be… I dunno, character witnesses?”

“Yes… if Sis is trying to take Futaba-chan away under the grounds that you are an unfit father, then contrary testimony would be the best way to prove her wrong,” Makoto said.

Sojiro blinked slowly at them, his eyebrows so far up his forehead that his wrinkles had all but disappeared. “You all want to do that? For _me_?” he asked.

“We do,” Akira said.

“You offered me a place to stay after the incident with my sensei,” Yusuke added. “That’s not to mention what you’ve done for Akira-kun. I believe we all owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“But…” Akira continued, “before we can, we’d like to know more about Futaba. About you. If you wouldn’t mind telling us.”

For a long moment, Sojiro said nothing, and then he shoved a hand into his apron pocket, pulling out a packet of cigarettes. He grabbed one, lighting it habitually and looking like he was going to take a long drag on it before he glanced back at the group. Then, with a rough sigh, he stubbed the fresh cigarette out, dropping it unceremoniously into the ashtray.

“Futaba is my daughter,” he said. “Or, well… that’s how I see her, anyway. I knew her mother long before she was ever born. You might already know this, but her mother… isn’t with us anymore.”

“Her mother,” Makoto repeated. “Would that be…?”

“Wakaba Isshiki,” Sojiro said, a fleeting smile crossing his face at the sound of her name. “She was a scientist, spent most of her free time working… I’ll be honest, I could never make heads or tails of it, but nothing captured her interest more than her research. She always stayed up late into the night, focused on one project or another, right up until the day…”

He trailed off, shaking his head like he was chasing away a bad memory. “Anyway, obviously I couldn’t leave Futaba alone after that, so she came to stay with me. The loss of her mother really took a toll on her, though. She never came out of her room, she barely ate… honestly, I thought I was going to lose her, too.”

“Where was Futaba-chan’s father during all of this?” Yusuke asked.

Sojiro laughed without humor. “Your guess is as good as mine,” he said. “I’m sure he was out there, somewhere, but Wakaba never mentioned him, and I never asked. Didn’t want to know.”

He picked up his cigarette, rolling it around but never lighting it again. “So that’s the situation. Niijima wants to take away my custody of Futaba because she’s a shut-in, but she’s fed and clothed and comfortable – and she even talks to me now, most days.”

“And what about the research?” Makoto asked. “It might be naïve of me to say, but… if you have it, isn’t that the easiest way to get Sis off your case?”

At this, Sojiro let out another long sigh. “…when I told Niijima-san that Wakaba’s research doesn’t exist, I was telling the truth… mostly. Actually, there’s a tiny bit left, some data stick we found when we were cleaning out her bedroom. It’s nonsense to me, but it’s all I have left of Wakaba – and it’s all Futaba has left of her mother. I won’t give it up to that woman, or to the police.”

“I get it,” Ann said. “It’d be hard for anyone to give up something so precious, especially when it’s all you have left to remember someone.”

There was a long moment of silence, during which the TV droned on mindlessly in the background. The air felt heavy with emotion, but strangely, Akira no longer felt tense.

“Could we meet Futaba-chan someday?” he asked.

“…that’s not up to me,” Sojiro said. “It took months for Futaba to start speaking to me… if she doesn’t want to see you, I can’t do anything about it.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Ryuji said. “Still… she’s lucky to have someone like you watchin’ out for her. I can’t believe Makoto’s Sis doesn’t see that.”

Though Ryuji had surely intended his words to be soothing, Sojiro only looked more pained now.

“She told me something,” he added. “Futaba, I mean. A few months after she finally came out of her room, she… I don’t know why, but she told me that she blames herself for her mother’s death.”

Several people in the room gasped; Akira felt like someone had just punched him in the gut. His heart ached in sympathy for someone he’d never even met, for a circumstance he had never experienced personally — but it hardly mattered. You needed only a modicum of humanity to feel empathy for something like that.

“That explains it,” Morgana said quietly. “She doesn’t have a Palace just because her mom died… she has a Palace because she thinks it’s _her_ fault.”

“So that’s why I’m worried,” Sojiro finished. “If Prosecutor Niijima forces Futaba to talk, and that comes out… there’s no way they’ll allow me to take care of her any longer.”

“Boss, I’m so sorry we pried,” Makoto said, bowing weakly to Sojiro. “These memories must be particularly painful for you…”

Sojiro laughed again, but this time, he actually seemed happy. “No, no. It’s… ah. It feels good to share the memories again. I haven’t had anyone to rely on since Wakaba, you know. Maybe it was stupid to try and handle this by myself, if I’m feeling so much better after telling a bunch of high schoolers about my problems.”

“Thank you for confiding in us,” Yusuke said.

“Yeah!” Ann said, smiling brightly. “I dunno what we’re gonna do, exactly, but… we’re on your side! And Futaba-chan’s, too!”

“All right, all right,” Sojiro said. He grinned wryly at them, and Akira smiled right back. “I think that’s enough heavy talk for the afternoon… go goof off or something.”

He waved them off, and they made their way up into the attic, although Akira had barely reached the top step when Alibaba messaged him again:

**>>Unknown Number:** Are you happy now  
**>>Unknown Number:** You know the full story  
**>>Unknown Number:** Do you see why I need you to change her heart?  
**>>Unknown Number:** She’s a murderer.

“Got another one,” Akira said, revealing his phone to the others.

“Yes… it seems there’s no doubt about it now,” Makoto said. “Alibaba and Futaba Sakura are one and the same.”

“Man,” Ryuji said, “I can’t even imagine… she’s spent all this time thinkin’ she killed her own mom? That’s insane.”

“Right? I mean, there’s no way that’s true,” Ann said. “You should tell her that, Akira. Tell her we believe in her!”

Hoping that his messages would actually go through this time, Akira composed a text.

**>>Akira Kurusu:** I don’t think I know the full story at all  
**>>Akira Kurusu:** Let me come over  
**>>Akira Kurusu:** I need to know about you before I can change your heart

**>>Unknown Number:** No!  
**>>Unknown Number:** I won’t let you in  
**>>Unknown Number:** This is my tomb  
**>>Unknown Number:** I won’t let anyone else suffer  
**>>Unknown Number:** Not Sojiro  
**>>Unknown Number:** Not you  
**>>Unknown Number:** Just me  
**>>Unknown Number:** Until I die, too

“That’s it, isn’t it,” Yusuke said softly. “Her home is a tomb… _that_ is the location of Futaba-chan’s Palace.”

A quick check on the Meta-nav was enough to confirm Yusuke’s suspicions.

“Futaba-chan’s situation… I know it’s not quite the same, but to me it feels familiar,” Yusuke said. “If she would like us to pursue a change of heart, I see no reason to deny her.”

“I agree,” Makoto said.

“Oh yeah,” Ryuji said. “We’ve gotta snap her outta this – for her sake, but for Boss, too.”

“Seems we’re all in agreement, then,” Ann said, nodding to Akira. One more time, he picked up his phone.

**>>Akira Kurusu:** Sorry, but…  
**>>Akira Kurusu:** I don’t believe you’re a murderer, Futaba  
  
**>>Unknown Number:** …  
  
**>>Akira Kurusu:** And you know what?**  
>>Akira Kurusu:** We’ll change your heart and prove it to you


	9. A Leader's Façade

* * *

  
They couldn’t have guessed what they were getting themselves into.

Futaba’s Palace _was_ a tomb – in fact, it was one of the greatest, most magnificent breeds of tomb in existence: a giant Egyptian-style pyramid that had weathered the test of time, standing tall and solid amid the infinite sand dunes that ebbed and flowed around it. The tomb sat in a small oasis, a single spot of deep green foliage and crystal-clear water among crumbling ruins, while above it, the sky was the deepest blue Akira had ever seen – the color of melted sapphire – and it stretched out for miles and miles, appearing touch the very ends of the Earth.

“Breathtaking,” Yusuke had said, and it was.

The Meta-nav had dropped them unceremoniously several miles away from the Palace itself, leaving the Thieves with no choice but to pile into the Mona-bus and make the trek across the endless desert. The journey was neither pleasant nor quick, and by the time they reached the base of the pyramid, the sun had reached its apex, shining brightly overhead and making the already-hot desert even more unbearable.

The pyramid itself was remarkable simple on the outside, bearing no obvious methods of ingress aside from the front door, which parted for them as they approached. Inside, it was dark and blessedly cool – no doubt the effect of Futaba’s cognition – and although the walls appeared to be made of the same ancient limestone that covered the pyramid’s exterior, the cracks flickered and glowed with pale green light that made the whole place seem eerily modern. It was impressive, and though their mission here was nobler than a simple treasure hunt, Akira couldn’t deny that he was excited to see what kind of riches such a Palace could hold…

They were stymied almost immediately, however, by a large wall, a door of some kind that blocked them from progressing down the Great Hall towards the pyramid’s center. Disappointed but unsurprised, Akira turned the team around; they would have to endure the heat again and seek a different route inside…

“Wait.”

Yet just before they left, a voice unfamiliar to Akira called out to them. He froze, the hair on the back of his neck prickling uncomfortably, and slowly, he turned around.

It was the first time Akira had seen Futaba Sakura. Already, he couldn’t remember what he’d expected her to look like – probably a little more like Sojiro than he should have assumed – but he knew for certain that the girl standing before him looked nothing like he’d imagined: shorter than him, ghostly pale, and sporting a curtain of bright orange hair that hung elegantly down her back. Based on their previous encounters with the shadows of Palace-owners, Akira thought this was probably a good representation of the real deal… although he doubted she dressed like a Pharaoh out in real life.

“Are you leaving already?” the shadow asked, cocking her head to the side, her voice reverberating with an unnatural hum. “Stay a moment… I want to talk.”

“Um,” Ann said, stopping short of the door. “Futaba-chan?”

“Not quite,” the shadow replied. “But good enough, I suppose.”

“Her shadow, then,” Morgana said. “Hmm. She looks to be the right age, anyway… this is probably her.”

“You shouldn’t have come here,” the shadow said.

“But… you know _why_ we’re here, don’t you?” Makoto asked.

Futaba’s shadow nodded. “Oh, yes. To steal her treasure. I wonder, though, if _you_ know that you’re doomed to fail.”

Her words held the barest hint of a challenge, which caught Ryuji’s attention. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, taking a step closer to Joker and squaring up his shoulders.

The shadow turned her bright yellow eyes towards Ryuji, whose mild bravado disappeared immediately. “It means exactly what it means,” she replied. “Trying to change the heart of such a wretched person is a fruitless endeavor. If you were wise, you’d give up now.”

“Don’t say such things,” Yusuke said. “The ‘you’ out in reality asked us to come here… surely you wouldn’t have asked us to change your heart if you truly believed it impossible?”

“That’s right,” Makoto said. “To get rid of the distortion in your heart… that’s what you really want, isn’t it?”

“Yeah!” Ann exclaimed, flashing a bright smile. “We’re all here because we want to help you, Futaba-chan. We’re not giving up that easily.”

For a long moment, Futaba’s Shadow regarded them in silence, her eyes flicking over them each in turn.

“…you,” she finally said, pointing at Akira. “Come here. I have a gift for you.”

“Sheesh, how suspicious can you get…” Morgana muttered. “Be careful, Joker.”

With a hesitant glance back at the others, Akira took a few steps towards the shadow, who spread her hands and held them palm-up about a foot apart. A scroll materialized in the air, hovering for a moment before solidifying and coming to a rest on top of Futaba’s outstretched hands.

“Take it,” she said.

Akira hesitated. This _was_ a shadow he was dealing with here, but it was also Futaba’s subconscious mind, her desires and fears made manifest. Accepting this scroll – despite the risks – might be the first step towards gaining the real Futaba’s trust.

The moment Akira had taken the scroll from Futaba, she began to fade from sight, her body going translucent. Somewhere far above then, a terrible wail resounded through the entire pyramid, an inhuman scream that shook Akira to the bone. When he looked back at Futaba, only the shadow’s eyes remained, and with them, she caught Akira’s gaze.

“I wonder… can you tame the beast living in her heart? Good luck…”

It was the last thing Akira heard before the floor dropped out from beneath his feet, sending him plunging down into the darkness.  


* * *

  
“Ugh… is everyone okay?”

Distantly, Akira registered that it was Morgana’s voice speaking, and he opened his eyes. He couldn’t see much, the only visible light coming from a dim torch that was mounted on the wall nearby, but his sight quickly adjusted, allowing him to see that they were probably still in Futaba’s pyramid… somewhere. His friends were scattered all around him, looking dazed but alive, and more importantly, their costumes had changed – evidently, Futaba no longer saw them as allies.

They had landed on solid ground, though it looked more like a balcony than a floor, given that the stone stopped abruptly a few meters away. Getting up onto his hands and knees, Akira scooted himself towards the ledge, peering over the side to find a pit of quicksand raging below him, a swirling whirlpool endlessly falling into depths even deeper than the basement floor, while above, a dozen terraced floors spiraled up into the darkness.

“What the hell!” Ryuji exclaimed. He had gotten to his feet and was in the process of trying to brush sand off his coat, to little effect. “I thought she wanted us to be here? Why’s she tryin’ to kill us now?”

“Think about things from her perspective,” Yusuke said. “One’s treasure is essentially their heart… we’ve come in with the express intent to steal that. It would be frightening to anyone.”

“And what was with that crazy yell?” Morgana asked. “You guys heard it too, right?”

“Futaba-chan’s heart may hold more dangers than we initially suspected,” Makoto said. She was biting her lip, fidgeting anxiously in place. “Joker, we shouldn’t waste time.”

“Right,” Akira said. On a hunch, he pulled out the scroll that Futaba’s shadow had given him and unfurled it. Indeed, he now held the pyramid’s blueprints in his hand, though it only outlined the pyramid in broad strokes – it was detailed enough for him to confirm that they were currently in the basement, but not so much as to discern an immediate route back to the surface.

“This spot right here,” he said, pointing to a large, circular chamber at the end of the Great Hall. “It looks suspicious, don’t you think?”

“Oh, let me see!” Morgana said, scurrying over to Akira’s side and peering thoughtfully over the map. “…yes, I agree. It reminds me of the treasure chambers we’ve seen before, so it should be a good place to start.”

“I guess we’re climbing, then,” Ann said, gesturing to a crumbling set of stairs that had been crudely cut into the wall. “I mean, pyramids are supposed to go up, not down, right? How far could we be?”

The answer: very far.

Traversing the underground levels of the pyramid proved even more difficult than Akira had imagined it would. Pyramids were _designed_ to trick grave robbers, with dead-ends and traps and all number of obstacles made to torment potential thieves until they starved to death, and as a result, there was no rhyme or reason to this vertical maze. Statues provided a means of ascending to the next level, but they were erratically placed, leading to more than one dead-end from which Akira had to double back, climb _down_ a level, and drag the team up somewhere else entirely. It certainly didn’t help that everything looked _the same_, either, each square path identical to the one below it – save for the view, which changed very slightly the higher they climbed.

It would have been mind-numbingly dull if it weren’t for the omnipresent danger that lurked in every corner of the Metaverse: shadows. Moving forward was a ridiculously slow process when they were constantly leaping over crevasses, creeping forward in the darkness to avoid knocking over fragile pottery, and listening to the sound of rushing sand, which was a constant roar in their ears… and all the while, there was no reprieve from the shadows. The basement’s paths were lined with dozens of sarcophagi, and each time the Thieves dispatched an enemy, those coffins would break open, spawning shambling mummies and ghostly dogs to replace their fallen brethren.

Still, they had to be getting _some_where. The quicksand pit was much farther away now, and Akira could easily see the ceiling – surely there was only one more floor of this basement hell. He ran towards a solitary statue that sat enticingly at the end of the path, bounding up its face and pulling himself onto the next level…

His feet hit the ground, and he began to assess his surroundings. The first thing he noticed was _not_ that he had reached the basement’s top floor – although this was undeniably true, as the only thing above him now was the ceiling – nor did he immediately see the single door adorning the far wall, which was pulsing with vivid green lines. No, the first thing Akira noticed was the shadow: a twelve-foot tall behemoth with a jackal’s head and a man’s body that sat cross-legged in the air, floating like it was bored, like it had been waiting for them, patiently biding its time while they ran around lost in this labyrinth, knowing that they would inevitably have to pass it by before they could truly escape.

Before Akira could warn them, the others followed his lead and leapt up onto the final floor, first Ryuji, then Makoto and Morgana, and when the four of them were standing in a line before it, the Anubis finally stirred. It rattled the scales in its hand, and though it never opened its mouth, it seemed to speak to them:

_If you wish to pass, you must face my judgment._

“Joker,” Morgana said, his voice low and serious. “This shadow… it’s crazy powerful. We really shouldn’t fight it.”

Tightening his grip on his dagger, Akira glanced to the far wall, which contained the only visible exit, and to his right, catching the eyes of Ryuji and Makoto, who nodded to him, and then finally back to Morgana, who narrowed his eyes in silent comprehension. Akira gave a subtle hand gesture, and in a flash, Morgana pulled out his slingshot, firing two pellets at the Anubis’s head before darting off to the left, dragging the shadow’s attention away from the wall’s edge, where Ann and Yusuke were finally climbing up.

“Panther! Fox!” Akira called back, never taking his eyes off his enemy. “See if you can get to that door while we distract this thing!”

Ann looked at the shadow, her eyes going wide in shock, but the moment she registered Akira’s order, her resolve solidified, and she nodded to him. Akira returned his attention to the fight, trusting Ann and Yusuke would be safe as they crept off to the right, keeping close to the wall and low to the ground to avoid drawing undue attention to themselves.

The Anubis, having recovered from Morgana’s modest attack, shifted to face Akira, and for a moment, Akira found himself unable to look away. The shadow’s eyes, which had once burned so brightly, now turned as black as the ocean at night – impossibly deep, like the creature was staring beyond this realm and into Akira’s very soul, weighing his sins on that scale it held, judging him…

Blackness crept in around the edges of Akira’s sight, and his limbs began to go weak. That inky black abyss inside the Anubis’s eyes was swallowing him, draining his energy, and though he tried to raise his arms in protest, it was futile. He was helpless beneath this monster’s gaze… but just as his knees started to buckle under the weight of the darkness, Akira felt Arsène stir within him, grounding him in the present. Blue fire banished the darkness from his vision, and the strength returned to his limbs. He looked down, and saw purple flames curling around his feet, but he felt nothing at all, and they soon dissipated. In retaliation, Akira ordered Arsène to strike at the Anubis with his strongest magic, but even though his aim was true, the shadow seemed to shake off his hit without so much as flinching.

“I told you it’s strong!” Morgana said, summoning Zorro and firing off a blast of wind, which at least caused _some_ reaction in the monster. It growled in pain, wiping off its face with its free hand before turning its eyes on Makoto.

An uncomfortable sense of déjà vu wafted over Akira. Instead of turning black, this time the Anubis’s eyes turned perfectly white, like the center of a star, and – like Akira before her – Makoto seemed unable to look away…

Akira couldn’t tell exactly what was happening. Maybe Johanna wasn’t as strong as Arsène, and the shadow’s magic was overpowering her, or maybe it was Makoto herself who was unable to fight back, frozen in terror at whatever she could see in the Anubis’s eyes, but either way, she didn’t notice as the ground beneath her feet lit up. An intricate white circle flared to life, while ancient sheets of papyrus materialized out of thin air and began to encircle Makoto, trapping her in a column of white light.

“Queen!”

Ryuji came barreling forward, full-body tackling Makoto out of the magic circle’s perimeter just before the papers formed a complete wall. She stumbled but managed to stay on her feet, turning around in time to watch as the papyrus sheets burst into flame, and when the smoke cleared, they saw Ryuji’s body crumple to the ground, still and lifeless.

Makoto shrieked, scrambling to Ryuji’s side and pulling him back from the battlefield.

“Joker!” Someone – Ann – called out, and Akira whipped his head in her direction to see that she and Yusuke had forced the door open.

“Mona, distract it!” Akira commanded. Panic was surging through his limbs as he dropped to the ground alongside Makoto. “Queen, help me lift him!”

“R-right, right!” Makoto nodded frantically, and together, they hauled Ryuji’s unconscious body into their arms.

“Zorro, c’mon… I need you,” Morgana murmured to himself.

He clenched his paws into tight fists, holding his breath, and Zorro responded to his plea, hitting the Anubis with a sucker punch so surprising that the creature was knocked to the ground. Morgana’s eyes shot open and a satisfied grin flashed across his face.

“Hurry!” Ann shouted, gesturing wildly for the group to follow her.

Hefting Ryuji up, Akira and Makoto staggered across the room, rushing through the door with Morgana on their heels. Then, once everyone was across the threshold, Yusuke slammed his palm down on a control pad, shutting the door behind them just before the Anubis had fully recovered.

They had no time to catch their breath, however, not when Ryuji was still lying limp in Akira and Makoto’s arms. Morgana stuffed his slingshot back in its holster and ran over to Akira’s side.

“Put him down, gently!” Morgana instructed them. “And give me some space…”

Makoto and Akira did as they were told, laying Ryuji flat on the ground before backing away. Morgana closed his eyes, holding his hands a few inches above Ryuji’s torso, and began to channel a pale blue-green energy from his Persona into Ryuji’s body. The other Thieves held their breath, and for a few long seconds, Ryuji continued to lie still… but then the spell settled in his chest and breathed life back into his lungs, and he took a huge, shuddering gasp of air. His eyes opened, and he blinked against the light.

“Oh, thank god,” Ann said, letting out a sigh of relief.

“Ugh… wha’ the hell happened?” Ryuji asked. He sounded like his throat had been rubbed down with sandpaper, and he briefly devolved into a violent coughing fit before he managed to push himself into a sitting position. “Did we beat that thing?”

“No, we merely escaped for the moment,” Yusuke replied. He was still standing near the door, listening intently. “In fact, I fear we may not be safe for much longer.”

Yes; now that Ryuji was no longer in immediate peril, they needed to refocus on their original goal: escaping the basement. They had fled to a small room, no different in general décor than the basement before it, but instead of a back wall, this room connected to a hallway.

“This way,” Akira said. “We might be able to escape from here…”

With Yusuke and Ann helping Ryuji to his feet, the group followed Akira’s lead, sneaking down the small tunnel. It twisted and turned so many times that Akira worried they might have become lost once again, but then they rounded one final corner and found themselves face to face with a set of stairs, and at the top of them, a doorway that glowed with the warm, natural light of the sun.

Akira thought that even if the door had been locked, their sheer force of will would have been enough to break it down – but it was open, and they toppled through it, emerging once again into the small quarry outside the pyramid’s front entrance. Akira looked to the sky; the sun had nearly set, throwing long shadows across the desert and turning the sea of sand blood-red, and only now did he truly register how much time they had spent wandering around in the basement.

“Well… that sure was something,” Ann said. Sighing, she sat down on a half-destroyed staircase, resting her head in her hands. “We barely made any progress at all!”

Akira felt his heart sink. They couldn’t have avoided Shadow Futaba’s pitfall trap even if they’d known it was coming, but it still didn’t feel _good_ to have spent all day in a Palace with so little to show for it.

“At least we’re all safe,” Yusuke said, with a barely-concealed glance towards Ryuji.

“…right.” Makoto, with her arms wrapped tightly around herself, took a step towards Ryuji, who was resting on the warm stone ground near Ann. “Skull, I, um…”

“Oh, hey,” Ryuji said, grinning weakly at her. “You a’ight, Queen?”

“Yes, thanks to you,” Makoto said. She looked wobbly on her feet, and she sank to the ground, sitting on her legs beside him. “You shouldn’t have done that; it was my own fault I ended up in that situation.”

“Nah, don’t start with that,” Ryuji said. “You woulda done the same for me, I bet.”

“Yeah, about that,” Ann said. “I couldn’t really see the fight, but what the heck happened back there? It’s not like you to freeze up so suddenly, Queen.”

“I – I don’t know what came over me,” Makoto said, shaking her head. “It looked me in the eye, and I just froze…”

“That shadow had some kind of ability,” Akira chimed in. “I felt it try to attack me, too, but somehow Arsène was able to block it.”

Morgana hummed thoughtfully, crossing his arms. “As we keep exploring Palaces, it’s inevitable that we’re going to encounter new shadows with unknown abilities. We have to be ready for anything.” His eyebrows furrowed. “You need to get your head in the game, Queen!” he snapped. “This is an important mission… if we fail, Medjed will ruin the good name of the Phantom Thieves!”

Makoto stilled, the pained expression draining from her face, replaced by a calm, blank look that belied quiet fury.

“_That’s_ what you’re worried about? Our _reputation_?”

“Of course!”

“An innocent girl’s life is at stake!” Makoto snapped back, slamming a fist into the ground beside her. “Something happened that made Futaba-chan’s heart become this distorted, causing her so much pain that she became a recluse… how can you be so selfish, thinking about something like our _image_ right now?”

“I’m not being selfish, I’m being pragmatic!” Morgana huffed indignantly. “Of course I want to help Futaba, but we have to think about the big picture.”

“The _big picture_…? How, how insensitive can you be—!”

Before Makoto could continue, however, Ann crouched down beside her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder and laughing a little nervously. “Aha, okay; let’s calm down, you guys…”

“Panther’s right,” Akira said. “…I think we’ve had enough for today. Let’s get out of here.”

Makoto and Morgana glared at each other, their staring contest a silent expression of the battle of wills that waged between them. Ultimately, Morgana was the first to turn away.

“Fine,” he muttered.

“Fine,” Makoto replied.

Akira pulled out his phone, waited a half-second for anyone to object – which no one did – and transported them back to reality. Today, they ended up in a familiar spot in Central Street, a little hidden corner to which the app liked to send them after a trip to a Palace.

“Everyone go home, get some rest,” he said. “I know we were supposed to go to Mementos tomorrow, but… let’s just forget that.”

“I think that’s wise,” Makoto said. Her tone was clipped and professional; she almost sounded like Sae. Turning to Akira, she added, “Please contact me when we’re next going to meet up, Leader,” and before anyone could react, she adjusted her shoulder bag and took off for the train station.

“Oh, geez.” Ann sighed, running a hand through her bangs. “Whatever… Ryuji, will you be okay to get home on your own?” she asked.

Ryuji rubbed the back of his neck. “Yeah. I’m fine; it was nothin’, really.”

“Nothing, really?” Ann looked skeptical. “You were unconscious, like, ten minutes ago.”

“You don’t gotta rub it in!” Ryuji said. “Besides, Mona patched me up; I’m _fine…_”

Yusuke stepped forward. “Nonetheless, please allow me to walk you back home. I will have to walk part-way back to my dorms, anyway, and your place is on the way.”

“I’m tellin’ you, you don’t gotta baby me—”

“Then may I simply accompany you as a friend?” Yusuke asked, his voice insistent. “We both have to get home eventually.”

Ryuji looked like he was ready to protest again, but Ann shot him a stern look, and he finally relented.

“Fine. Let’s just go.”

The rest of the group parted ways, leaving Akira alone with Morgana in his backpack and a sour taste in his mouth. He hated to leave an argument unresolved, but trying to force reconciliation when everyone was exhausted would only lead to more trouble, to more hurt feelings. His friends were reasonable people; he had to believe that they would cool off after a day or two.

Morgana sulked silently in Akira’s bag for most of the train ride home, but once they set foot in Yongen-Jaya, he popped his head up over Akira’s shoulder.

“I am NOT being insensitive, right?” he asked. “Of course I want to help Futaba, but we have to think about ourselves, too!”

“You’re not wrong,” Akira said.

(He was a little wrong.)

Morgana grumbled something incoherent to himself, and then, to Akira, “You know I’m just looking out for you guys, right?”

“I know,” Akira said.

“I mean, if Medjed ruins our reputation, who knows what could happen to us once we enter Mementos? They could deal us a truly devastating blow, and… I don’t want the Phantom Thieves to dissolve.” Morgana set his chin down on his paws. “We need to think about our future.”

Akira crossed his arm over his chest so he could scratch Morgana behind the ears. “Sometimes, when people are feeling especially emotional, they’ll just lash out when you try to give them pragmatic advice,” he said. “That Anubis was tough. Everyone was hot and tired… they’ll come around in a few days.”

“Yeah?” Morgana’s ears perked up. “Yeah… you’re probably right. I guess you have to be a seasoned veteran before you can keep a cool head under such dire circumstances… and Ryuji _was_ in pretty bad shape. They’ll understand soon.”

_At least his ego survived the afternoon intact,_ Akira thought.

By the time they were back at Leblanc, Morgana’s mood had recovered enough that he decided to stick around the café and pester Sojiro for dinner while Akira went upstairs to unwind. He lay down on his couch and grabbed the novel he was reading – some popular new release he’d seen in the bookstore window and bought on a whim – managing to get through a solid few pages before his phone buzzed.

**>>Yusuke Kitagawa:** I wanted to inform you that Ryuji has made it home safely.

Akira lay the book face-down on his chest and picked up his phone to reply.

**>>Akira Kurusu:** Sweet, good to know  
**>>Akira Kurusu:** Thanks for doing that, Yusuke

**>>Yusuke Kitagawa:** It was no trouble at all

**>>Akira Kurusu:** You doing all right after today?

**>>Yusuke Kitagawa:** I am well, thank you  
**>>Yusuke Kitagawa:** The Palace seemed to take a toll on the others, however…

**>>Akira Kurusu:** Yeah…  
**>>Akira Kurusu:** We’ll take it easy for a few days, I think

**>>Yusuke Kitagawa:** I feel that would be wise  
**>>Yusuke Kitagawa:** You will let me know when we will resume the infiltration, yes?

**>>Akira Kurusu:** Yeah, of course

**>>Yusuke Kitagawa:** Lovely  
**>>Yusuke Kitagawa:** Then, I hope you enjoy your afternoon, Akira-kun

**>>Akira Kurusu:** Thanks, Yusuke. You too

Satisfied with the knowledge that his friends were home safe, Akira set down his phone and returned to his book… for all of five minutes, before his phone buzzed to life again.

**>>Makoto Niijima:** Hi, Akira-kun.  
**>>Makoto Niijima:** I wanted to apologize for my outburst earlier.

Akira had been expecting this, though Makoto was reaching out a little sooner than he’d thought she would. This time, he marked his place in the novel with a little scrap of paper and set the book fully aside, taking his phone in hand instead.

**>>Akira Kurusu:** It’s okay  
**>>Akira Kurusu:** We were all stressed out

**>>Makoto Niijima:** Yes…

There was a long pause.

**>>Makoto Niijima:** I’m not being naïve, am I?  
**>>Makoto Niijima:** Saving Futaba-chan is the most important thing, even if she couldn’t help us with Medjed.  
**>>Makoto Niijima:** That’s what the Phantom Thieves do, isn’t it? Help those who feel powerless to help themselves?

**>>Akira Kurusu:** No, you’re right  
**>>Akira Kurusu:** There’s no way I could abandon Futaba after learning about her situation

**>>Makoto Niijima:** I’m so glad to hear you say that.  
**>>Makoto Niijima:** I don’t think Morgana meant to sound so cold, but that IS how he came off.

**>>Akira Kurusu:** He was exhausted  
**>>Akira Kurusu:** We all were  
**>>Akira Kurusu:** I know he’s worried about Futaba, too, even if he doesn’t show it

**>>Makoto Niijima:** Yes, I know you’re right.  
**>>Makoto Niijima:** Thank you, Akira. I just needed to check.

**>>Akira Kurusu:** Anytime  
**>>Akira Kurusu:** Get some rest, Queen

**>>Makoto Niijima:** I will. Same to you, Joker.

Sighing, Akira locked his phone and let it drop from his hand onto his chest. Makoto’s response shouldn’t have surprised him, especially given how she’d come to join the Phantom Thieves in the first place… by that same token, however, Akira could easily see where _Morgana_ was coming from, too. Waking up in the Metaverse without any memories, Morgana had come to rely solely on the Phantom Thieves to help him re-discover his own identity, so if something came along that threatened his one and only support network…

His thoughts were interrupted when his phone began to buzz steadily against his chest. Now Ann was calling him; that was quick.

Accepting the call, Akira brought the phone to his ear and said, “Hello? Ann?”

“Hey,” she replied. “Have you heard from Ryuji? He’s not responding to my texts.”

“Yusuke messaged me to say they got home safely,” Akira said, “so I’m sure he’s fine. He’s probably having dinner with his mom by now.”

“Yeah…” Ann sighed deeply into the receiver. “I’m just – ugh! He is SO reckless sometimes; what was he thinking?”

“You know how he is. He acts first and thinks later.”

“Well _yeah,_ but… I mean, you’ve seen how he limps a little in the mornings, right? HE’S the one who needs to take it easy…”

“Ryuji can take care of himself, Ann.”

“Well, so can Makoto!” Ann shot back. “…y’know? I’m not saying I _wanted_ Makoto to take that hit, but…” Ann cut herself off with another sigh. “I’m just worried about him. He doesn’t have to put himself in danger all the time.”

“I know; you’re right,” Akira said. “I’ll have a talk with him about it, okay?”

“Would you?” Ann immediately brightened up. “Thanks, Akira – I just get the feeling he’ll actually _listen_ to you, y’know?”

“What, because I’m the leader?”

“Because you’re his best friend! …and maybe a little bit because you’re Joker.” Ann laughed. “Look, it’s just – you’re really easy to follow, y’know? I trust you.”

“I – thanks, Ann,” Akira said, barely managing to avoid stumbling over his own tongue to reply. On some subconscious level, he knew – _must_ have always known – that the others trusted him to some degree, but it was still surprising to hear it so candidly.

“Okay! Thanks again, Akira. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Okay. Bye, Ann.”

The phone in his hand went silent. Akira’s attention drifted between the screen and his book, which sat neglected on the couch beside him.

…it would be rude of him not to text Ryuji after all that, he decided, so he unlocked his phone one last time.

**>>Akira Kurusu:** Hey man, feeling all right?

**>>Ryuji Sakamoto:** Yeah, I’m all good  
**>>Ryuji Sakamoto:** A little sore I guess, but it’s not like I’ve never been unconscious before

**>>Akira Kurusu:** Ann’s worried you’re ignoring her

**>>Ryuji Sakamoto:** I’m not ignoring her! Geez  
**>>Ryuji Sakamoto:** I just don’t wanna talk about it when I know she’s just gonna tell me I was stupid  
**>>Ryuji Sakamoto:** Maybe I was but fuck man, I don’t care

**>>Akira Kurusu:** It was brave  
**>>Akira Kurusu:** But you got hurt pretty badly

**>>Ryuji Sakamoto:** I knowwwwww  
**>>Ryuji Sakamoto:** Look, I dunno why I did it  
**>>Ryuji Sakamoto:** I know Makoto can take care of herself  
**>>Ryuji Sakamoto:** I just wanna help  
**>>Ryuji Sakamoto:** Be a good teammate, y’know?

**>>Akira Kurusu:** You’re a great teammate, Ryuji  
**>>Akira Kurusu:** We wouldn’t be here without you  
**>>Akira Kurusu:** I mean, like. Literally.  
**>>Akira Kurusu:** Taking down Kamoshida was all you

There was another long pause before Ryuji responded.

**>>Ryuji Sakamoto:** Thanks, dude  
**>>Ryuji Sakamoto:** I mean Akira  
**>>Ryuji Sakamoto:** I uh  
**>>Ryuji Sakamoto:** Can’t really think of how I wanna say this, but…

**>>Akira Kurusu:** Don’t worry about it, I get you  
**>>Akira Kurusu:** Get some rest?

**>>Ryuji Sakamoto:** Yeah!!  
**>>Ryuji Sakamoto:** I will  
**>>Ryuji Sakamoto:** No worries

Sighing, Akira tossed his phone over onto his futon, where it landed with a soft “plunk” on his pillow, and flopped back down on the sofa, rolling over onto his stomach. Logically, Akira understood that he was the Phantom Thieves’ leader, and that teammates often looked to their leader for guidance when they were troubled. The smartest thing to do was try to calm everyone down, to smooth the waters so they could function more effectively as a group… yet with every placating word he said, Akira couldn’t help but feel himself grow a little more distant – not from the others, but from his own heart.

How did he really feel? He wasn’t sure anymore.  


* * *

  
The attic was already uncomfortably warm by the time Akira woke up the next morning, but after visiting a literal (albeit cognitive) desert, this heat didn’t seem quite so bad. He rolled over and grabbed his phone off the windowsill, noting that he’d beaten his usual alarm by just a few minutes, and then, after glancing down to the foot of his futon where Morgana was still curled up in a small, snoozing ball, he added another hour, giving himself a little more time to relax in that hazy space between consciousness and unconsciousness.

He _did_ actually get up when his alarm finally sounded, however; he was so used to waking up early for school that sleeping in late made him feel a little guilty. Besides, it was nice how much longer the days seemed when he made the effort to wake up early – and he _did_ still have something to do today, even if he’d let the other Thieves off the hook. Certainly, Akira needed a break as much as everyone else, but his idea of relaxing was a little bit different than what most would imagine. He could feel Arsène’s pent-up magic crackling inside his body like a spark of electricity, and if he didn’t do something to discharge all that power, he thought he’d probably explode.

While Akira took the time to change out of his sleepwear and into something more presentable, Morgana yawned loudly, stretching and sitting up on the bed.

“Hmm?” He cocked his head to the side, eyeing Akira curiously. “You’re dressed already? Do you have plans, Joker?”

“Yeah, I’m… going to go see Crow,” Akira admitted. “I don’t think anyone’s ready to go to Mementos after yesterday, but I don’t want him to think we blew him off.”

For a moment, Akira thought Morgana was going to chastise him, but the cat simply nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea. We shouldn’t do anything to make him angry. But still, you won’t do anything reckless, will you?”

“I won’t,” Akira promised.

They went downstairs together to eat some breakfast – curry for Akira, dry kibble for Morgana, who ate without complaint despite his usual culinary preferences – and then Akira left for Mementos, leaving Morgana in Sojiro’s capable hands.

He didn’t rush himself today, winding through the upper level of Mementos and taking a longer route to the subway turnstiles than usual. He didn’t often have the chance to do this, or maybe it was just that he’d never had the inclination; it always seemed like there were more important things to be doing when they were here, whether that was changing the heart of some lowlife or making progress towards the great unknown waiting for them behind each new barrier wall… but today the only thing waiting for him was Crow, and Crow could probably afford to wait a few minutes.

It was lonely up here. Dead silent, completely antithetical to Shibuya’s _actual_ subway station, and oddly unsaturated: colors didn’t stand out as vividly as they should have, advertisements faded into blurry messes, and everything felt a little less… alive. Which – considering it was the public’s cognition of Shibuya, perhaps the liveliest place Akira had ever seen – was more than a little eerie.

Deciding that he’d stalled long enough, Akira took a sharp turn to the right and made his way into Mementos proper. This part of the subway was a lot more open and spacious, and he could see Crow standing in the distance long before Crow could see him. It was only once Akira was close enough for Crow to hear his footsteps that he turned around.

“Ah – Joker. Alone today?” Crow frowned, peering over Akira’s shoulder in search of the others. “Have you been abandoned?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Akira said, swatting at Crow, who easily dodged him. “We just have a new target.”

“Oh really?” Crow asked. “And what kind of criminal could possibly follow an act like Kaneshiro? You’d have to aim particularly high to find someone worse than a mob boss.”

Akira held his tongue. It was all well and good for Crow to follow them into the minds of regular targets, but for someone like Futaba…

“It’s different this time,” he settled on saying.

“How mysterious,” Crow quipped. “Fine, I can see you have no interest in telling me. I won’t pry.” Turning towards the escalators, he waved his hand, beckoning Akira closer. “Come, let’s go break down the barrier between this path and the next. That way we can progress immediately whenever your team decides to grace us with their presence again.”

“Fine by me,” Akira said, and he slipped his hands into his pockets, waiting for Crow to open up the Meta-nav and drag them down to the next checkpoint. After the world stopped spinning, Akira found himself on a familiar-looking platform – they _all_ looked familiar – and yet he could tell by the green brick walls that he’d never been here before. Crow had indeed successfully fought his way to the bottom of Kaitul without them.

“Hm?” Crow crossed his arms, his gaze focused on the end of the platform, where a shadow stood. It was vaguely humanoid and held a club in one hand, waiting for them to approach. “Well. That wasn’t here yesterday.”

“Someone saw you down here and decided to send us a welcoming party, I guess,” Akira said. He drew his dagger. “Shall we kill it?”

Crow, his hand already on the hilt of his sword, threw Akira a wild grin.

“You have to ask?”

They descended upon the shadow, which, sensing their hostility, began to bubble and churn, morphing from a shapeless blob into an elegant, long-haired woman. She brandished a sharp-edged fan in each hand, and when she raised her arms, sparks leapt from her fingertips in two perfect arcs: one for Joker and one for Crow.

The attack came too quick for Akira to dodge, so he turned into it, taking the brunt of the electricity on his side instead of head-on. It stung, but it wasn’t nearly as strong as some of the attacks he’d taken while in Futaba’s Palace, so he was able to shrug it off relatively easily, while beside him, Crow sidestepped the electricity entirely and summoned Loki, firing off a series of sharp slices that knocked the shadow back. He spared a glance at Akira before continuing, circling around the shadow until he and Akira had her flanked.

It should have been an easy fight, even for just the two of them, but somehow, Akira couldn’t keep his focus. Maybe it was because the long, wispy robes covering the shadow’s body made her movements difficult to track, or maybe it was her speed – even Crow was having trouble keeping pace with her – but deep in his heart, Akira knew the truth was that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t keep his thoughts away from Futaba’s Palace. His mind was stuck a day in the past while his body fought in the present, and it took all his concentration just to try and land a hit.

Arsène had managed to make a few successful attacks against the shadow when she suddenly turned on Akira, rushing forward with her arms out like she was about to hit him with another bolt of electricity, but instead, she twisted her body up like a pretzel and knocked him to the ground in a whirl of arms and fan blades. Hovering above him, she closed in for the kill… and came to an abrupt stop, her body going rigid before she could lay a finger on Akira. She stuttered in place for a few seconds and then dropped to the ground, dissolving into puffs of black smoke and revealing Crow standing behind her, his sword on the downswing.

…well, at least it was dead now, Akira thought. He really _hadn’t_ been paying attention; he could have sworn they’d barely made a dent in that shadow, but clearly Crow had it covered – it may as well have been a one-on-one fight with how little Akira contributed.

“Thanks,” Akira mumbled, pushing himself off the ground and back to his feet. He braced himself for a lecture or at least a snarky remark, but his companion didn’t seem to have anything to say, too busy staring at him with an expression Akira couldn’t parse. Was he angry? Confused? Disappointed? Akira couldn’t tell; all he knew was that the intensity of Crow’s stare made his cheeks go hot, made him wonder if maybe it would have been better to stand Crow up than come here when he was this preoccupied, after all.

“You’re distracted today, Joker,” Crow finally said, “but your mind is clear; I can see it in your eyes. So… if you aren’t over-burdening yourself with Personas, what could it be?”

Unconsciously, Akira touched the back of his neck with one hand, toying with the fringe of his hair. He could lie, he realized; even if Crow had dismissed his most obvious excuse, Akira could surely think of something – he could even play it off as a joke.

But he was getting a little tired of telling white lies.

“We… had a fight,” he admitted. “The, uh. The Thieves. That’s why they aren’t here today. I’m still thinking about it, I guess.”

Crow smirked. “Trouble in paradise?”

_Asshole,_ Akira thought – and after he’d gone through the trouble of being honest, too. “It’s none of your business, actually,” he snapped, a little more aggressively than he’d intended. Crow’s eyes popped open, surprise washing over his face.

“Well,” he said, his voice all sharp around the edges, “I was going to give you a chance to vent, but if you’re going to be an ass about it, I think I’ll retract my offer.” He turned on his heel and faced the end of the platform. “Fine then. We _are_ here to do a job, so let’s do it already.”

They approached the barrier wall in tandem, both well aware of what needed to be done. Akira pulled off his red glove, and Crow his gauntlet, and as they placed their hands on the wall, the thoughts of Shibuya began to flow through their minds.

_…You don’t think Medjed’s gonna target us, do you?_

_What’re the police gonna do? They’re useless…_

_Who cares about a bunch of business execs losing some cash? Fuck; I say bring it on…_

_…ugh! Just get out of here already! Delinquent freak…_

Akira shut his eyes tight and tried not to listen to the words, but he supposed that defeated the purpose of this exercise: he _had_ to listen to the public’s voices, didn’t he? If they weren’t heard, the wall would never open… so he clenched his jaw and allowed himself to be bombarded by the anxieties, the fears, the selfish hopes of a hundred strangers he’d never meet, trying his best to let the words flow in one ear and out the other.

_You think he’d assault someone for me if I paid him?_

_Scary… how come he never talks?_

_He keeps scraps of metal in his desk… he’s gonna kill us one day…_

The voices began to trend younger and more familiar – the voices of high schoolers – his classmates, maybe, whispering jabs and insults that seemed targeted at him, specifically. He tried to refocus his mind and seek out different thoughts, but the more he tried to fight against the tide, the more strongly those thoughts pushed back at him, inundating his mind until his own internal narrative was silenced, the negativity thick enough to drown him…

“Are you all right?”

That last voice didn’t come from inside his head, Akira realized, and all at once, the extra voices disappeared. He could think for himself again, and he forced his eyes open. He was holding his palm against open air, the barrier wall having crumbled beneath his touch, and Crow was standing beside him.

“I’ve found that breaking down these walls expends a great deal of energy,” Crow prompted when Akira didn’t reply. “Let’s rest here for a while, where it’s safe.”

Akira just nodded. It was strange; he _did_ feel like he’d used up all his energy, but he hadn’t felt like this before, had he? Of course, last time they had just finished fighting through several floors of Mementos, so perhaps he simply hadn’t noticed any additional exhaustion. Still, this sudden lethargy felt different from mere battle fatigue in a way that Akira didn’t much care for.

Crow led him over to a row of benches inside the little glass compartment near the platform’s center, where Akira sat down, and Crow beside him, staring out into space and saying nothing, although his earlier hostility seemed to have vanished, replaced by a look Akira would have called concern if he didn’t know better.

Leaning back in his seat, Akira pulled out a thermos of coffee, still warm from this morning’s brewing, and took a long drink. He thought he’d probably feel better if he ate something, but he didn’t have any fresh curry today, so this would have to do – and besides, all the curry in the world couldn’t chase away the words that echoed in Akira’s ears. He tried to think back to the first time he and Crow had broken down a wall, to the things he’d heard back then and whether they’d been quite so _personal_. But then again, he’d only done this two times so far, hardly enough to gather evidence and draw a conclusion of his own.

“Crow?” he asked.

“Hm?”

“What did you hear? When we opened that wall, I mean.”

Crow’s lips twisted into the faintest hint of a wry smile. “That time? A lot of people worrying about Medjed, mostly – which is understandable. They _did_ just threaten to tank Japan’s economy, after all.”

“Did you hear anything about, uh… yourself?” Akira asked. “Your real self, I mean. Not Crow.”

Crow paused for a moment. “Ah, I see. Yes, as I usually do,” he said, and the last traces of a smile left his face. “I’ve broken down several of those walls in my time exploring Mementos, and I can tell you this: it’s always very similar. Hopelessness, despair, hatred… humanity is ugly, Joker. We’re just good at hiding our true selves out in reality.”

For once, there was no anger in Crow’s voice – only weary resignation.

“…I worry sometimes that I’m faking everything,” Akira said. He didn’t know what it was about Crow that made him want to spill all his secrets, but now, like a dam had burst, every thought he had studiously refused to acknowledge for so many months came flying out of his mouth in a rush. “Joker feels like a false personality, but the person I am out there… he’s not really ‘me’, either. I feel like I’m always putting on a show – for my teachers, for the other Thieves…” He sighed, hanging his head in his hands. “Sorry. I know you took back your offer to let me vent.”

“It’s fine,” Crow told him. “Honestly, I think I understand what you mean. Sometimes the only way to survive in this world is to pretend to be someone you’re not. I do it, too. Everyone does.” He ran a few fingers along the edge of his mask before turning to look at Akira. “I suppose, in a way, I’m less hidden when I’m wearing this wretched thing than I am out there. In this world, I can’t hide the ugliness of my soul. You’ve seen me for who I really am.”

“I don’t think you’re ugly,” Akira said. Then he snapped his mouth closed, blinked. He hadn’t meant to say that. Not out loud, at least.

Crow dropped his gaze to his lap.

“You may be the only one who doesn’t,” he said.

Something unspoken passed between them, a morsel of unfiltered truth, but Crow didn’t allow it to last; abruptly, he launched himself out of his seat, placing a hand on his hip and staring out over the empty subway tracks.

“Well? What now?” he asked. “I assumed we’d be exploring today, but without the rest of your crew, we’ve done everything we can at this point. What do you propose we do?”

_Go home,_ Akira should have said.

“Spar with me,” he actually did.

“So you keep asking,” Crow said, throwing Akira a skeptical look from over his shoulder. “Tell me, what could I possibly stand to gain from such a fight? I mean no offense by this, Joker, but I have nearly two years of experience over you. I’d _destroy_ you.”

“Prove it, then,” Akira said. He’d come here for stress relief, and so far he was more stressed than ever; he wanted to _fight,_ he just… didn’t want to risk death in the process. “Failure is the best teacher.”

Crow sighed. “Fine, if that’s what you wish,” he said. His hand disappeared up his sleeve, and he retrieved his phone. “Let’s head back to the surface, however, in case something goes amiss.”

A few minutes later, they were back in the lobby, preparing for their duel after clearing away debris and shards of broken glass from the floor to make a suitable arena. No Personas, they’d decided – it would make things too crazy – and no weapons, either. Neither was a master of hand-to-hand combat, but a fight was a fight, and strategy carried over between fighting styles, or so Akira had claimed.

And even if this was just an excuse to spar with Crow, was that really so bad?

Akira watched as Crow, a few meters away, knelt on the ground, nestling his sword and gun safely against an old pillar. It was rude, he knew, and he didn’t mean to stare, but… Crow’s outfit… it wasn't even as though it was all that different from those of the other Phantom Thieves – the suit mirrored Makoto’s in color and Ann’s in style – but it was _very_ sleek, clinging to Crow’s body like a second skin. Stretching only accentuated that feature, showing off how fit Crow truly was, the result of fighting in the Metaverse for over two years. Akira couldn’t help it if his attention was drawn to him.

When Crow stood upright, his eyes met Akira’s, and the corners of his mouth turned down in irritation.

“What?” he asked.

“Your costume,” Akira blurted out. “It’s, uh… pretty bold, isn’t it?”

A flash of surprise crossed Crow’s face. “How do you mean? Isn’t it fairly modest?”

“Oh, sure,” Akira said. “I was commenting more on its… fit.”

“Tailored for dexterity and stealth,” Crow said, his voice taking on a distinctly chilly tone. “Surely it’s easier to move around in a bodysuit than in your get-up.”

“Shall we find out?” Akira asked. He slipped his arms out of his jacket sleeves and rolled his shoulders, loosening up in preparation for the fight. This time, it was Crow who paused to stare.

“I admit, I wasn’t expecting you to be sleeveless under that coat,” he noted.

Akira tossed the jacket away with a flourish and declared, “It’s my spirit of rebellion.”

“…I don’t want to know what that means,” Crow said, taking up an offensive stance. “Come on. Are we fighting or what?”

Laughing, Akira matched his stance. “Ready when you are,” he said, and held out his hand, gesturing for Crow to bring it on.

Without waiting for Akira to prepare himself, Crow lunged towards him, immediately going on the offensive – not that Akira expected anything less. When they fought shadows, it was almost always Crow who got the first hit, and he rarely bothered with defense unless it was to buff his speed; avoiding attacks was more Crow’s style. So it didn’t surprise Akira when Crow leaped forward, pivoting to Akira’s left and landing a solid punch to his side, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

Akira huffed and pulled his arms in, protecting his sides. Crow did no such thing, but although he looked like he was perfectly vulnerable to attack right now, Akira knew that the second he tried to close in, Crow would retaliate. Akira wanted to shake up his expectations, throwing a flurry of jabs towards Crow’s front and setting himself up to kick Crow in the side while he was distracted. The heel of his boot slammed into Crow’s body, shoving him back, and Crow grunted in pain, but when he whipped back around to face Akira, he had a grin on his face – he was enjoying himself.

Akira knew how rare that was; he’d watched Crow in battle enough to know that he usually treated fighting more like business than pleasure. And there wasn’t anything weird about that (he repeatedly told himself) – he watched ALL the Thieves fight, because as leader, it was important that he know his teammates’ strengths and weaknesses when it came to battle, and watching them in action was the best way to see it. But while Akira had learned the fighting styles of the other Thieves fairly quickly, Crow was still a bit of a… well, a wildcard.

He fought differently when he used Robin Hood than when he used Loki. Even if his Persona wasn’t actively on the field, their presence shone through in Crow’s stance, solid and unyielding when Robin was at the helm, but fluid and nimble when he relied upon Loki – and here, now, Akira learned that Crow had a third fighting stance: unarmed. With no Persona on which he could call, Crow made sure to take every advantage he could find, whether that meant focusing on evasion or standing his ground. He was adaptable, and that was his biggest strength in combat.

That was _usually_ his biggest strength, anyway, but few seconds later, Crow charged in from the left, a familiar sight, and Akira frowned. _He’s trying this again?_ he wondered, bracing himself for the blow, but in the blink of an eye Crow shifted direction, knocking Akira’s legs out from underneath him. He hit the ground so hard the air left his lungs, stars popping behind his eyelids as his vision went temporarily black.

When he came to, the first thing Akira noticed was Crow staring down at him. They were mere inches apart, the pointed tip of Crow’s nose far too close for Akira’s comfort, while the rest of Crow’s body acted as a warm, firm weight that trapped him on the floor. The next thing he noticed was the awkward twinge in his arms, which were splayed out above his head with his wrists pinned to the ground. In the time he’d blacked out, Crow had put him in a completely untenable position – Akira’s elbows couldn’t bend as they needed in order for him to escape Crow’s hold. Crow smirked at him, and Akira swallowed hard. This was dangerous; he’d let his guard down, and now he was completely at Crow’s mercy.

“You always fall for feints like that,” Crow said. “It happened earlier, too, against that shadow… Just because an enemy uses an attack once doesn’t mean they’ll continue to act in such a predictable manner.”

“All right,” Akira muttered. He sighed and dropped his head to the ground. “Point noted. Get off me.”

Crow’s smirk grew even sharper, and he remained solidly in place.

“Throw me,” he said.

Akira stared.

“What?”

“Throw. Me.” Crow tightened his grip, his claws pressing painfully against Akira’s wrists. “You’re a thief… can you steal victory out from beneath my hands?”

A challenge, then. Cocky bastard.

Akira took a deep breath and threw his lower body up into the air, trying to jostle Crow from his position atop Akira’s body or maybe regain use of his arms, to gain any foothold he could find and turn this situation around. All he accomplished, however, was bucking his hips against Crow’s, a jet of heat coursing through him as their bodies slotted together. Crow pushed back, trying to keep him pinned, and then Akira’s back was on the ground again – if anything, he was in an even worse position than before, Crow’s whole body pressing down on him, unbearably close…

Yet in that moment, Crow’s confident expression faltered. His grip on Akira’s wrists went slack, and then the weight on his body lifted as Crow got to his feet.

“Get up, you idiot,” Crow said, extending his hand. Akira took it and allowed himself to be pulled up. The second he was stable, Crow released him and turned away. “We’ll work on your form later,” he said. “But for now… go home, Joker. You’re only going to be a liability if you’re this distracted.”

Akira pressed a hand to his chest and nodded. His head was aching, his heart beating wildly in his ribcage, adrenaline clouding his vision – he _was_ a liability, imagining things that weren’t there, that had no place in a fight. His mind was buzzing, and for once, he couldn’t blame his Personas – the thoughts that plagued him were his and his alone.   


* * *


	10. Reconciliation

* * *

  
After leaving Mementos, Akira hopped on the train and rode over to Central Street to grab some lunch, craving something other than curry for once. It was prime lunchtime, and while the diner he usually frequented was relatively busy, there was room enough for him at the bar, so he sat down and stared at the closest waitress until they made eye contact. This was something he’d needed to do ever since coming to Shibuya; after his assault, he practiced very hard to make himself seem small and unobtrusive in public, and it worked a little too well, sometimes.

He placed his order, and a few minutes later, the waitress returned with a piping hot bowl of noodles – not the fanciest thing in the world, but Akira so rarely treated himself to lunch outside of Leblanc that even this was a welcome change of pace. Quietly, he began to eat, his mind still fixated on his and Crow’s sparring match.

It shouldn’t have been anything special, just a quick test of skill between teammates (_were_ they even teammates? Allies? …rivals?), but never before had he run a training drill that left him with the phantom sensation of a body bearing down on his, of hands around his wrists. The memory burrowed into his skin and stayed there, and the worst part was, Akira didn’t think he hated the way it made him feel.

Ann’s voice echoed in his mind, _You sure you’re not just saying that because you’re kinda into him?_

Akira… wasn’t. He was nearly 100% certain of that. Surely it was impossible to be attracted to someone like Crow, someone Akira had never seen and barely knew, someone who held so many secrets behind that mask of his. He had once likened himself to a spy, a tool, while the Thieves saw him as an unpredictable, potentially deadly threat – but he was a fighter, too, a survivor. Doing what was necessary in order to come out alive. Akira tried to imagine what it would have been like for him to have discovered the Metaverse without Morgana, and found he didn’t envy Crow one bit. It was impressive, what he had done – admirable. Akira admired him, maybe that was it.

He tried not to dwell on the thought, lest it lead him in a direction in which he couldn’t afford to travel… at least, not right now.

“Back already?” Morgana asked him when he returned to Leblanc that afternoon, having finished his meal relatively quickly and with no other reasons to avoid returning home.

“Hey,” Akira said in greeting to Sojiro as much as in response to Morgana. “I, uh, didn’t have as much to do today as I thought, so I’m back early.”

“Hm. Well, do what you like,” Sojiro said. He looked a little stiff, still trying to decide where he and Akira stood now that Akira knew about Futaba. “Things have been slow here today, so I don’t have much for you to do.”

“That’s okay.” Akira wasn’t in the mood to stand behind the counter, anyway. “Can I stay in the café?”

Sojiro looked around Leblanc. There were no customers.

“If you’re quiet,” he said.

Akira nodded. He was good at being quiet.

He settled in at the counter bar and pulled out the novel he’d tried so hard to complete these past few days, but – alas – the universe did not want him to complete this particular piece of literature, because no sooner had he taken a seat than the door chimed and opened, laughter floating in through it. Akira looked up to see Makoto enter Leblanc, Haru Okumura at her side. Both of them were smiling, their cheeks pinked and their clothes slightly rumpled, dusted with something Akira couldn’t identify until they had come inside and approached the bar: dirt.

Makoto gave him a meek smile and said, “Hello, Akira-kun.”

“Makoto,” Akira replied. He set his book aside and inclined his head towards Haru. “Haru-chan, it’s nice to see you again.”

“And you as well!” Haru said. Between the wide-brimmed sunhat perched atop her head and the unabashed joy in her voice, she seemed significantly less formal today than she had on the day of the festival. “Mako-chan suggested we come here this afternoon; I hope we aren’t intruding.”

“Not at all,” Akira said. “You two look like you’ve been busy, uh…”

“Gardening,” Makoto supplied. “It was Haru’s idea.”

“Mako-chan mentioned she’s been feeling stressed out, and there’s nothing more relaxing than being around plants,” Haru explained, exuding the confidence of a seasoned gardening veteran. “Cultivating a garden and shaping it into something beautiful is an extremely rewarding experience – and calming, too.”

“Huh. Did it work?” Akira asked.

“I think so,” Makoto said, her smile turning just a bit brighter.

“More friends of yours?”

Sojiro, who had moved to the kitchen before Makoto and Haru arrived, reappeared at the counter to greet their new guests. He gave the two of them a once-over and then shook his head, bemused. “Goodness… what could you two ladies have been doing to end up such a mess?”

“Sorry, Boss,” Makoto said, clasping her hands together apologetically. “We can wash up, if you’d like.”

“No, no,” he insisted. “It’s not so bad. Can I get anything for you?”

At this, Haru broke from Makoto’s side to approach Sojiro at the counter. “Oh, yes!” she said. “I’ve heard marvelous things about your coffee, and I’d be honored if you’d prepare a cup for me.”

Sojiro, not anticipating Haru’s formality and pep, took a moment to reply.

“Uh, sure. I mean, of course. Anything catch your eye?”

“Hmm, let me see…” Haru leaned forward, pouring over the menu board with rapt attention. “I don’t suppose you have any coffee beans that were locally grown?”

“Locally?” Sojiro repeated. “I might… most of my stock is imported, though.”

“I see… That’s much more common, so I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.” Haru swept her eyes over the wall of coffee beans before continuing, almost absent-mindedly, “In truth, I’ve been attempting to grow a few coffee plants myself. I’ve taken cues from Okinawan coffee-growing operations and have set up a greenhouse, but I fear my shrubs are still several months from bearing fruit… if they will at all.”

“Is that so?” Sojiro raised his eyebrows. “Okinawa, huh… all right, hold on. I think I may have purchased some beans from an Okinawan grower not too long ago…”

Haru’s eyes lit up with excitement, and while she watched Sojiro search for the elusive beans, Makoto drew closer to Akira.

“I was hoping we could schedule a meeting with everyone this afternoon,” she said quietly. “If you’re free.”

“I’m free,” Akira said. He gave a tentative glance towards Haru and asked, “A, uh… what kind of meeting?”

“The kind you’re thinking of,” Makoto said. She took the edge of her shirt between her fingers, idly messing with the fabric. “I realize that would exclude our present company, but Haru-chan already told me she can’t stay all afternoon, and she – she was just so excited when she heard about Leblanc; I couldn’t say no…”

“He found the coffee!” Haru announced, returning to her spot at Makoto’s side. “I ordered a cup for myself, of course, but what would you like, Mako-chan? Akira-kun?”

Makoto stammered, a little flustered. “O-oh, you don’t need to–”

But before she could finish her sentence, Haru shook her head firmly and held up a hand.

“Consider it a thank-you gift! Please, I insist.”

Like a flower, Makoto’s resolve wilted beneath the sun of Haru’s generosity. “Then, um… I think I’d like to have the same, if that’s okay, Boss?” she asked.

“Sure thing,” Sojiro said. He glanced over his shoulder, catching Akira’s eye. “You, too?”

Akira shrugged. “Why not?”

“Three cups, then. Why don’t you go ahead and take a seat? I’ll have him,” Sojiro nodded towards Akira, “bring it over when it’s done.”

While Sojiro began to brew their coffee, Akira fired off a quick text in the Phantom Thieves’ group chat, explaining the situation briefly and asking about their availability. Soon, however, Haru swept him and Makoto up in conversation, and Akira forgot about the message entirely until Leblanc’s door chimed once again, heralding Yusuke’s arrival. He slotted into their conversation seamlessly, peppering Haru with questions about garden aesthetics until Ann and Ryuji burst through the front door, too. They were already in the middle of an animated argument that they carried over to the booth table, and before long, Leblanc was filled with enough chatter that anyone would think the little café was filled to capacity.

Akira sat back with his coffee and watched his friends. It was nice to see them so cheerful; taking a day to cool off had clearly done wonders for everyone, not just Makoto. It made him optimistic about the conversation yet to come, like they might be able to patch things up easily, after all – but that could wait just a little bit longer. There was no need to interrupt the good mood just yet.

It was nearly an hour after they sat down with their drinks that Akira noticed Haru pull her phone out of her pocket. She had turned away from the group, trying to be polite, but Akira had a knack for noticing these kinds of things, and – unable to shake the feeling that something was off – he watched her as she read. At first, she kept her expression perfectly neutral, but then, for just a moment, she allowed a flash of disappointment to show her on face, and she let out a soft, resigned sigh – a noise of defeat. She sounded like she had given up.

“Hmm? Is everything okay, Haru-chan?” Makoto asked.

Haru took a quick breath and made the worry disappear from her face.

“Oh, everything is fine; please don’t worry,” she said. “However, I’m afraid that I have to take my leave now… father has informed me that I’m needed at home.”

“Your father?” Makoto repeated. She parted her lips like she had something to say, but thought the better of it. “That’s too bad. Still, I’m glad you finally got to visit Leblanc with me.”

“And _I’m_ so glad you finally came gardening with me!” Haru said. She stood up, placing a hand on Makoto’s shoulder. “I really had a wonderful time. We’ll have to do this again soon.”

“Yes,” Makoto agreed. “Um. Do you need me to walk you back to the station? I know we’re a little ways from your house…”

“No, that’s all right. Father has arranged for someone to pick me up in Yongen already.”

"O-oh.” Makoto deflated a little. “Well, okay. Be safe on your way home, then.”

Haru beamed at her, and then, with a shallow bow to Sojiro and one last wave back to the group, she made her exit. The door clicked shut, and for a moment, the Thieves were all quiet. Without a word passing between them, they rose from their seats, gathered their empty mugs and plates, and deposited them in the sink to be washed before moving from Leblanc up into the attic. Morgana was on the couch, curled up but not asleep, and when he heard them enter, he got to his feet, jumping up onto the table and stretching.

_"There_ you guys are,” he said. “I was getting tired waiting for you, you know.”

“Sorry, Mona,” Ann said, giving him an apologetic pat on the head, which Morgana accepted happily.

“Yes, I suppose that’s another thing I need to apologize for,” Makoto said. She took a seat and folded her arms on the table, her eyes downcast. “I got so wrapped up in our conversation…”

“That’s right; Akira mentioned that this meeting was your idea, Makoto,” Yusuke said. “Is something the matter?”

The Thieves circled up around Makoto, who took a few quiet seconds to gather her thoughts. When she did finally speak, her voice was halting and hesitant.

“About the other day, in Futaba-chan’s Palace… I wanted to apologize.”

“Aww, c’mon, for real?” Ryuji asked. He grinned and gave Makoto’s shoulder a gentle, friendly bump with his fist. “That’s old news. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, but – I really _wasn’t_ focusing,” Makoto insisted. “In truth, something’s been on my mind lately.”

“Oh yeah?” Ann asked, leaning over the table with an impish grin on her face. “That something wouldn’t happen to be about _Haru-chan_, would it?”

Makoto stuttered out a gasp. “What? No – why, why would you think that?” she asked, while Ann simply shot a knowing glance at Akira. Makoto bristled, aggressively tucking a stray tuft of hair back behind her ear. “No, it’s – please, be serious, Ann. It’s about my sister, actually.”

Ann’s face fell. “Oh, shit. Um. Sorry.”

“No, it’s—” Makoto sighed, her gaze dropping dejectedly to the table once again. “Some time ago, shortly after I joined you all, I got the strangest feeling that my Sis might have a Palace. She’s been acting so differently lately, and so I thought, what harm could it do just to check? And, well…”

Makoto retrieved her phone and swiped open the Meta-nav app. She held it up and spoke clearly into the speaker, “Sae Niijima.”

The app beeped.

“Candidate found.”

“So, your assumption was correct,” Yusuke stated.

“Do you know her keywords?” Akira asked.

“No, though not for lack of trying,” Makoto said. From her pocket, she produced a piece of folded paper, on which she had written dozens of words, all either crossed or scribbled out. “I’ve determined the location – the courthouse, of course – but I haven’t been able to figure out how she sees it.”

“So, you want us to help you change her heart?” Ryuji asked.

“Honestly… I’m not sure.” Makoto closed out the Meta-nav app and returned her phone to her pocket. “Do you remember a while back, when we were speaking to Crow? How he called a change of heart “brainwashing”? It’s been hard for me to shake the feeling that he was right.”

“You don’t want to change your sister’s personality by force. That’s understandable,” Morgana said. He turned to face Makoto, his ears falling back. “Queen, I’m sorry I yelled at you. I didn’t realize how much was on your mind… and I lost my cool.”

“N-no, it’s okay,” Makoto said. “You were right; I really _was_ a liability.”

“We were all kinda heated that day, huh?” Ann asked. “But still, thanks for telling us, Makoto.”

“Yeah!” Ryuji clapped her on the shoulder. “We got your back, Queen.”

“Thank you, everyone,” Makoto said. She smiled weakly. “It’s almost funny… I was upset for so long, thinking my Sis must have been a terrible person deep down, but… seeing Futaba-chan have a Palace, it was actually kind of a relief, you know?”

“I understand,” Yusuke said. “Futaba isn’t evil, which is proof enough that you don’t have to be a villain to have a Palace.”

“Exactly,” Makoto said. “So, Akira-kun… let’s change Futaba’s heart quickly. I promise I won’t hold the team back anymore.”

“You never did,” Akira told her. “But I understand what you mean.”

“It seems everyone’s fired up again… so what do you say?” Morgana asked. “Should we resume our infiltration tomorrow?”

The agreement was unanimous, and with that, the Thieves departed for the night, eager to prepare for the next day’s mission. Akira himself spent the rest of the evening reading casually, his mind untroubled for once, and it wasn’t until he was in bed, about to fall asleep, that something unexpected finally disturbed his calm – his phone, buzzing with a new text message.

Morgana yawned, opening his eyes. “Hm? Who could that be at this hour?”

**>>Unknown Number:** So  
**>>Unknown Number:** Have you made any progress?

“It’s Futaba,” Akira announced, and began to type a reply.

**>>Akira Kurusu:** Sure have.

**>>Unknown Number:** I don’t feel any different

**>>Akira Kurusu:** It takes time. Stealing a heart is complicated, you know.

**>>Unknown Number:** I guess  
**>>Unknown Number:** …  
**>>Unknown Number:** You’re not messing with me, are you?

**>>Akira Kurusu:** I’m not, I promise. We’re the real deal, remember?  
**>>Akira Kurusu:** You said so yourself

**>>Unknown Number:** Yeah…

**>>Akira Kurusu:** You surprised me, actually  
**>>Akira Kurusu:** It’s not exactly the easiest thing to believe  
**>>Akira Kurusu:** That we can steal a heart, I mean

**>>Unknown Number:** Maybe it’s hard for the simple plebeians out there  
**>>Unknown Number:** But I’m not like them. I know things

**>>Akira Kurusu:** Can I ask you something?

There was a lengthy pause, during which Akira began to believe Futaba may have simply blocked him again, before her reply finally came.

**>>Unknown Number:** I guess so

**>>Akira Kurusu:** You said you could take care of Medjed for us  
**>>Akira Kurusu:** How? No one even knows their identity.  
**>>Akira Kurusu:** They’re probably more than one person

**>>Unknown Number:** Wouldn’t you like to know??

**>>Unknown Number:** …

**>>Unknown Number:** It’s complicated  
**>>Unknown Number:** Explaining it would be tough  
**>>Unknown Number:** But if I can trust that you’re changing my heart, you can trust that I’ll take care of Medjed  
**>>Unknown Number:** Right?

**>>Akira Kurusu:** Okay. That’s fair

**>>Unknown Number:** Good.

Then his phone went silent, and Akira thought the conversation to be over. It was only after he woke up the next morning that he saw one final message, sent over an hour after the previous:

**>>Unknown Number:** Don’t make me wait too long, okay?  


* * *

  
Their second trip into Futaba’s Palace went much better than the first. Now that they knew what to expect – and now that they had secured an entrance to the pyramid aside from the Great Hall – they were finally ready to make some real progress, no matter how tricky that would prove to be. They delved into the pyramid’s side chambers, prowling through winding tunnels that curled maze-like in random directions, finding dozens of corridors replete with dead ends and locked doors. They were blocked from whole chunks of the pyramid at a time, almost as though they were being guided, shepherded through Futaba’s cognitive world by an unknown force.

Their first real sign of progress came when they emerged from a small crawlspace between two chambers to find a long, spacious, and largely empty room that contained a pedestal, which sat in front of a series of large stone panels painted with bright colors and bold shapes. Given Akira’s limited knowledge of Ancient Egypt, he thought that these should have formed some sort of tableau, but as it stood, he could piece together no cohesive narrative; indeed, it was impossible to tell what, if anything, the abstract shapes were supposed to represent.

“What’s this? Some kinda painting?” Ryuji asked when the Thieves moved to inspect the art.

“I guess,” Morgana said, “but it doesn’t look like any painting I’ve ever seen.”

“Fascinating…”

Entranced, Yusuke approached the wall, reaching a hand out and gently pressing his fingertips against one of the panels, which caused it to glow around the borders. With a thoughtful hum, he examined the other panels, eventually selecting another and touching it, as well. Like the first, it began to glow, and then the two panels turned white, fading away entirely. When they reappeared, they had swapped places.

“Oh!” Ann exclaimed. “It moved… great thinking, Fox!”

Yusuke seemed not to hear her; he had become absorbed in his task, rearranging panel after panel, and slowly, the picture began to take shape. First, an image of a red-haired young woman, dressed in the same robes Futaba’s shadow wore, sitting on a throne. Her face was buried in her hands, while before her stood three identical owl-headed men in black suits, one of whom was carrying a scroll.

“Just a moment… ah.” Yusuke nodded, stepping back to survey the tableau one final time. “There we are.”

The painting’s border flashed once with golden light to signify their success, and then the seams between the panels disappeared, allowing them to view the entire scene uninterrupted.

_I should never have had Futaba… She was always such a bother…_

Out of thin air, a deep, masculine voice spoke to them, the words reverberating within Akira’s mind in much the same way his Personas would talk to him. One look at his companions’ faces, however, told him that he wasn’t alone in hearing this particular voice.

_It seems you caused your mother a great deal of trouble, Futaba-chan… She must have had some kind of maternity neurosis…_

“So, what, is this one of Futaba’s memories or something?” Ryuji asked. “Who’re these guys with the owl heads?”

“Since Futaba’s distortion relates to her mother, I’m certain it’s a memory,” Morgana said. “It’s been changed a little to fit the Palace’s theme, though.”

“Then that paper must be her mother’s suicide note,” Makoto said. “How horrible… she just lost her mother. Do these people have no compassion?”

“Yeah! Like, what the hell? She was only 13,” Ann said. “What kind of monsters try to convince a kid that she was responsible for her own mom’s death?”

Before they could speculate further, however, the pedestal shot out a beam of light, shattering the painting as well as the wall behind it. When the dust settled, they found a new hallway, a way forward.

“Let’s keep going,” Akira said, “but… let’s not forget what we just saw.”

The others nodded. These memories were the ones Futaba wanted them to see – even if they were painful, even if she didn’t want to face them herself – and so they owed it to her to pick up the clues her shadow was leaving for them.

Less than an hour later, they reached another, nearly-identical room with a brand new mural on the wall. These panels were even more scrambled than the previous, but Yusuke’s keen eye made quick work of them, and Akira watched as the shapes took form: a dark-haired woman leaping in front of a black car, and to the side, the same red-haired girl, her arm outstretched as if to pull the woman out of harm’s way – to no avail.

No dialogue accompanied this tableau, only a terrible, enraged wail from an invisible demon that screamed Futaba’s name before fading away.

“If this painting reflects reality, then her mother died right in front of her eyes,” Yusuke said softly. “I can’t imagine the grief she must have felt…”

“You know,” Morgana said slowly, “something’s been bothering me.” He approached the tableau, standing in front of the car. “Futaba thinks _she_ killed her mom, right? But… unless Futaba pushed her mom, there’s no way she could be responsible. It’s the car that killed her, isn’t it?”

“That’s… complicated,” Makoto said. “But, taken together with her first memory, it’s possible that those men in suits convinced her it was her fault.”

Morgana didn’t say anything, and then the pedestal lit up, destroying the panel and effectively ending the conversation. Still, Akira thought he knew what Morgana would have said next: “But that doesn’t make any sense.” And no, on the surface, it didn’t make sense. Anyone could logically see that the cause of Wakaba’s death was being hit by a car; surely even a child could understand a simple cause and effect relationship like that.

Yet based on the two memories they had seen so far, it was clear that wasn’t the case for Futaba. Whether it was rational or not, Futaba had convinced herself of this truth: she was her mother’s killer. Palaces were cognitive worlds, yes, but while the brain may have _built_ the place, it was the heart the populated it, sculpted it, gave it true life. Logic had little place here; instead, emotion ruled, and it overpowered honest memories, distorted the facts.

As they wound their way deeper into the pyramid, the distortions grew stronger, and when they found the final mural, it was so thoroughly scrambled that even Yusuke had some trouble discerning its true shape. Slowly, however, he matched up common colors, pulling disparate panels together and crafting a narrative from the mess. He finished the left side of the tableau first, revealing an image of the woman they had come to identify as Wakaba standing on a sidewalk, a bottle in one hand, a test tube in the other. Beside her stood another owl-headed man, though he appeared different from the suited men the first mural had depicted, with a stripe of pure white plumage covering the top of his head. To their right stood a bold, blocky house, and in the far-right corner there was a window, in which Futaba’s head was just barely visible.

_But this was an incredible success! We would be fools not to continue!_ A man’s voice called out. His words were aggressive but slightly slurred – he’d been drinking, if the bottles in the picture were any indication.

“Have we heard this voice before?” Makoto asked. “I don’t remember…”

“I’m not sure,” Ann said. “Is it is the same as those owl-headed men from the first painting?”

_For the last time, no. _ A different, more feminine voice – Wakaba’s voice – responded to the stranger.

_You call yourself a scientist? There’s always going to be risk. Isn’t it worth it if we discover something new? Something THIS incredible?_ the man retorted.

Wakaba may have responded to this, but the memory of her voice was too faint for Akira to make out anything concrete.

_Well, maybe if you weren’t so busy all the time with that **child** of yours…_

_Mom…_

It was a feeble voice, a child’s voice. There was a pause, followed by the sound of shattering glass.

**_FUTABA!_** Wakaba screeched. _Get back inside!_

Then, the chamber was filled with nothing but ringing silence. The Thieves waited for the scene to continue, but the pedestal twisted around and shone a beam of light through it, shattering the picture and bringing the memory to an end.

“That one seemed different,” Morgana noted. “On the surface, it didn’t seem to have much to do with her mother’s death, did it?”

“It may have occurred just before her death,” Makoto said. “This must be one of Futaba-chan’s last memories of her mother.”

“So, are we to surmise that Futaba-chan’s mother was a scientist?” Yusuke asked.

“Yep,” Akira said. “A cognitive scientist, I’m told.”

“Cognitive, huh?” Ryuji asked. “So, like, mind shit?”

“You don’t suppose that she…” Makoto began, cutting herself off quickly with a shake of her head. “No, surely not. She couldn’t have been researching the Metaverse, could she?”

“We have no way of knowing that right now,” Morgana said. “But if she was… Futaba might be an even more valuable ally than we originally thought.”

They leapt through the newly-formed opening in the stone and returned to the Great Hall, slowly climbing towards their next objective. However, as they reached the apex of the staircase, they found something unexpected waiting for them: a flat expanse of stone that looked less like a wall and more like a door, complete with a modern-looking doorknob.

“How strange. This hardly matches the rest of the Palace,” Yusuke said.

“Hmm… can you guys feel that?” Morgana asked. “It almost reminds me of a safe room.”

“So, you’re saying the cognition here is weak?” Ann asked.

Makoto approached the door and traced a finger over one of the ribbons of caution tape that wrapped around it. “Keep out,” she read. “Futaba-chan became a shut-in after her mother’s death, didn’t she? And given the location of this Palace’s distortion… I would bet this is Futaba’s bedroom door.”

“I agree with Queen,” Morgana said. “Futaba is afraid to let anyone into her heart, literally _and_ metaphorically. We’re not gonna find a key to this door on our own.”

“Ohh, so it’s like that time with Madarame?” Ryuji asked. “Remember, when Mona had to pick the lock and Ann—”

“Yes! Okay!” Ann interrupted him. “We remember that, no need to recount all the messy details.”

“So then, like before, we need to change Futaba’s cognition,” Yusuke said. “Could we convince Boss to open Futaba’s door for us?”

“That won’t be enough,” Akira said.

“I think you may be right,” Makoto said. “Futaba has locked herself inside her room to escape from people… if she doesn’t open it herself, I doubt it will change anything. Furthermore, she’s unused to visitors – she even restricts our ability to text her. How will we get in contact with her?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Akira said, and he turned around, motioning for the others to follow. “Let’s head back. I think we’re done here.”

They returned to the Palace’s entrance, and from there, to the real world, yet instead of parting ways as they usually did after a trip to the Metaverse, Akira led his friends back to Leblanc. Exhausted from a day of exploring, they wasted the evening away in the attic, talking quietly until they heard the telltale sound of Leblanc’s front door chiming, a signal that Sojiro had left for the night. Only then did they they finally creep back down into Leblanc – the one place Futaba would be able to hear them, whether they wanted her to or not.

“Okaaaay, Futaba!” Ryuji called out, jumping down the last two stairs and cupping his hands around his mouth. “We gotta ask you somethin’, so listen up, alright?”

His plea was followed by a few seconds of damning silence, broken only by the sound of Akira’s phone receiving a new text message.

**>>Unknown Number:** So loud. You almost blew out my eardrums.

“She’s listening,” Akira stated, holding his phone out for the others to see.

“Futaba-chan,” Makoto said, “we’re just about ready to change your heart.”

**>>Unknown Number:** Really?  
**>>Unknown Number:** Okay, so do it already

“It’s not that simple,” Ann said. “Could we come see you first?”

**>>Unknown Number:** Don’t like that  
**>>Unknown Number:** Why?

“A few reasons,” Yusuke said, “but primarily to deliver your calling card.”

**>>Unknown Number:** …the other targets did have calling cards addressed to them, huh  
**>>Unknown Number:** …  
**>>Unknown Number:** There’s no other way?

“Nope,” Akira said. “Your heart won’t respond to us, otherwise.”

**>>Unknown Number:** …

**>>Unknown Number:** All right  
**>>Unknown Number:** Here’s the deal  
**>>Unknown Number:** At 1:05pm tomorrow, I’m going to call Sojiro and ask him to bring me some lunch.  
**>>Unknown Number:** Once he knows I’ve had a meal, he won’t need to leave Leblanc again until closing time  
**>>Unknown Number:** So you should be able to sneak in undetected  
**>>Unknown Number:** I’ll leave the front door unlocked for 15 minutes after Sojiro gets back  
**>>Unknown Number:** That’s your ONLY chance. After that I’m locking up  
**>>Unknown Number:** That’s my offer. Take it or leave it.

“I suppose we don’t have much of a choice but to agree to her terms, do we…?” Makoto asked. She looked to Akira and nodded.

**>>Akira Kurusu:** Okay  
**>>Akira Kurusu:** You’ve got a deal. Tomorrow, just after one. Be ready

The room held its breath, watching Akira’s phone until, at last, a single-word reply appeared:

**>>Unknown Number:** Okay

With digital proof of their agreement secured, the Thieves parted for the night, going to bed with the hope that tomorrow they would be able to meet Futaba – _really_ meet her, not her shadow and not her text-based alias, but the real deal – and open the final door to her heart at last.  


* * *

  
“There goes the Chief… and… okay! He’s back in Leblanc!”

Morgana dashed back over to the group from his lookout spot, his tail flipping urgently. It was just after 1 pm the next day, and the Thieves had gathered in Yongen’s backstreets in order to capitalize on the tiny window of opportunity Futaba had deigned to grant them. They had been careful not to loiter in any one place too long, currently posted up in the alleyway outside of Takemi’s clinic, but it was obvious their presence had drawn the attention of a few residents, anyway. Luckily, with Sojiro now on his way back to Leblanc, they wouldn’t have to wait much longer.

True to her word, Futaba had left the Sakura residence’s gate unlocked, and the front door, too; neither offered any resistance as the Thieves hurried inside, eager to avoid any prying eyes that might see them sneaking into a home that wasn’t theirs and decide to call the police. The house was dark, but it wasn’t too large, and Futaba’s door was so distinct that they were able to locate it easily. Much like its doppelganger in the Palace, the door was shut and covered in tape warning them to keep away. Tentatively, Makoto knocked twice.

“Futaba-chan…? May we come in?”

At first, there was no answer. Hidden on the other side of the door, Futaba could have been doing anything – perhaps she intended to simply ignore them, or maybe she wasn’t inside at all? But if that was the case, then why bother leaving the front door open, just like she had promised? Akira held up a hand, urging the Thieves to be patient, and a few seconds later, they heard a soft voice coming from inside the bedroom.

“…door’s open.”

“That’s no good,” Morgana said. “We need her to open it _for_ us. Can you tell her?”

Ryuji pressed his ear to the door’s seam and said, “Uh, this is gonna sound kinda weird, but could you open it for us?”

The hallway went quiet again.

“Explain why,” the same voice said.

Everyone exchanged a nervous glance, their eyes collectively falling on Akira. As it so often did, the most difficult and delicate task was left to him.

“There’s a place we can go where your heart’s desires have manifested,” he said. “That’s where we’re headed, but the real world can influence it, and because of that… we really need you to be the one that opens this door.”

“…this miiiight be a little much, even for someone like Futaba-chan,” Ann said when they received no immediate response.

Futaba’s voice, muffled but louder this time, said, “‘A metaphysical world created from the fibers of human cognition.’ That’s what you’re talking about, right?”

“I, uh.” Ryuji opened his mouth, only to shut it again. “Yeah?”

“Her mother was a scientist researching human cognition, wasn’t she?” Morgana said. “I suppose it’s possible Futaba learned about it from her.”

There was a long pause from the other side of Futaba’s door, and then,

“I want to come with.”

“_What?”_ several people exclaimed at once.

“She wants to visit to her own Palace?” Yusuke asked. “How unexpectedly bold…”

“Futaba-chan, I’m sorry,” Makoto said, her voice soft and placatory, “but that would be incredibly dangerous.”

“And can a person even enter their own Palace?” Ann asked Morgana. “Is that allowed?”

“How should I know?!” Morgana yelped.

“Take me with you, or I’m not opening the door,” Futaba’s voice said.

“You don’t even know where we’re going,” Akira said. “Why do you want to come with us so badly?”

More silence. It was almost infuriating, trying to have a conversation with a door, but for someone so thoroughly entrenched in the hermit lifestyle, even this must have been a huge concession. Despite everything, however – despite the fact that their communication thus far had taken place only via chat – Akira could feel the first delicate strings of a bond forming between himself and Futaba. He wanted to take those strings, hold them carefully in his hand, and extend them out to Futaba, as if to say _it’s okay. You can trust me._

Every occupant of the Sakura household held its breath as slowly, the doorknob on Futaba’s door began to turn. It only opened a sliver, revealing little more than a flash of orange hair and a single eye, framed by glasses, which peered out at Akira.

“I want… to see it,” Futaba said quietly. “The place my mom was researching. I want to go there.”

Akira thought he understood: the source of her distortion was also the source of her motivation. Of course she wanted to learn more about the mother who had left her too early.

“Okay,” Akira said. He waited, but no one tried to stop him, so he said again, “Okay. We’ll take you there.”

Futaba pushed the door open just a little more, her eyes darting rapidly back and forth between all the Thieves, her frail body trembling as she suppressed the urge to flee.

“So,” she said, and although her voice shook as she did, she held fast to Akira’s gaze. “When do we go?”

Akira slipped his hand into his pocket, pulling out Futaba’s calling card and handing it to her.

“Right now, if you want.”  


* * *

  
Bringing Futaba into the Metaverse was a surprisingly simple effort. She took everything in remarkable stride, understandably awed by the Palace’s appearance and Morgana’s existence, but seemingly determined to face this unknown world head-on nonetheless. She didn’t speak and stuck to Akira’s side like Morgana did when he followed him to school, so he relegated himself to guard duty, putting Yusuke, Morgana, Ryuji, and Makoto on the front lines – although with any hope, they’d avoid getting into a fight until they reached the treasure room. Ann stood on his other side, flanking Futaba and ready to defend her at a moment’s notice… or heal her, if worst came to worst.

Luckily, unlike so many Palaces before it, Futaba’s pyramid contained an easy, straight shot to the treasure room. There were never any shadows lurking out in the Great Hall, but given the present company, Akira thought it best to take things slow, cautiously climbing the finals steps until they came to a halt outside the last door, the final obstacle keeping them from the treasure. Futaba, whose eyes had been wide open since they arrived in a desperate attempt to take in everything she could see, went still.

“That’s…”

“Your bedroom door, yes,” Yusuke confirmed.

“It’s locked?” she asked.

Morgana hopped up and tried the handle, feeling it give beneath his weight. The door creaked open.

“Not anymore,” Akira said. “Thanks to you.”

“So that’s why… I had to be the one to let you in,” Futaba said. She let go of Akira’s arm and approached the replica of her door, gingerly pressing her fingers against it. “If you guys had just barged in, I might still think of you as intruders… this door wouldn’t open.”

“It’s kinda scary how quickly you’re pickin’ this stuff up,” Ryuji said.

“Yeah – you’re incredible, Futaba-chan!” Ann said. “I’ve been coming to this place for months and I still feel like I’m totally in the dark about how it works.”

“Hey!! What gives?!”

Morgana, who had poked his head through the door gap, suddenly turned back to address the group, a look of utter betrayal gracing his big, round face. “There’s no treasure in here!”

With that, he threw open the door, only to reveal a small, empty chamber. It looked no different than a dozen rooms they’d seen during their infiltration and contained nothing else besides a small pedestal in the very center of the room, which had a bright, glowing dome on top.

“There must be a treasure somewhere, right?” Ann asked. “I mean, the Palace is still standing.”

“And surely this room was sealed off for a reason,” Yusuke said. “Could this lead us further in?”

The team gathered around the pedestal, and once everyone was safely within the chamber, Akira placed his hand on top of the button and pressed down. It filled the room with the sound of stone scraping against stone as the door behind them slid shut, and the floor shuddered, lifting them high above the confines of the Great Hall. The ride was agonizingly slow, and when the door at last opened again, the Thieves and their guest found themselves staring at an impossible scene: a massive vista of stone pillars and crumbling hunks of debris floating above an endless void. The pyramid below them may as well have disappeared.

Morgana took the first step out of the elevator, stamping his foot against the ground to test if it would hold solid beneath his weight, and when nothing happened, and he nodded intently.

“It’s here,” he declared. “The treasure. We just need to find it.”

So Akira picked a direction and began to move.

This upper chamber was eerily silent, and most strangely of all, there were no shadows to be found. The Palace was utterly devoid of life, and this was almost more frightening than the alternative; at least when a Palace went on high alert, they knew to expect heavy resistance, whereas this felt more like the calm before a terrible storm.

In the end, there was really only one path to follow: a long, winding bridge that snaked its way around the room before finally depositing the Thieves on a hunk of stone in front of a sheer cliff face. There was a door inlaid in the wall, and when it opened, it led to a huge, cavernous room, although darkness obscured Akira’s vision and hid the room’s true size. The only light sources within were a series of bright green tiles on the ground.

“Is this the treasure room?” Ann asked.

“It must be, right?” Ryuji asked. “I mean, where else is there to go in this stupid pyramid?”

“The room is remarkable empty, however,” Yusuke noted.

“Could the treasure be in there?” Makoto asked, pointing to a large stone rectangle, the sole item occupying the room.

“It’s…” Morgana stopped to sniff the air, and his pupils suddenly dilated. “Treasure? It could be! Let’s open it!”

“Woah, are you crazy?” Ryuji asked, grabbing Morgana by his bandana and yanking him back. “Ain’t this a coffin?”

“But we’re in a Palace!” Morgana whined, struggling to pull free from Ryuji’s grip. “Nothing’s what it’s supposed to be!”

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt to simply take a look,” Yusuke reasoned. He walked over to one side of the sarcophagus and ran his hand over the smooth stone surface. “Could someone assist me?”

Futaba hung back behind Akira, peering around him curiously while the other Thieves lined up alongside Yusuke. Together, they managed to push the heavy stone lid off the top of the sarcophagus, just far enough to see what was inside. Ann reacted first, dropping her hold on the lid and gasping at the sight.

“Oh shit,” Ryuji said. He spun around, trying to put himself between the coffin and Futaba. “Don’t let her look—”

But Futaba, curious about the cognitive world inside her own heart, had already crept forward, close enough that she could look into the sarcophagus and see what the others had unveiled: a body lying peacefully on its back, its hands clasped together, eyes closed. A corpse – _Futaba’s_ corpse, dressed in the same fancy garb her shadow had been wearing.

“O-oh,” Futaba said. She stumbled back a step, her legs suddenly wobbly, and Akira moved forward to catch her by the shoulders.

“Futaba-chan,” Ann said, “don’t freak out. It’s just something this world created; it’s not real.”

But whether or not the corpse lying within that coffin was _actually_ Futaba was beside the point; real or not, Futaba had in essence seen her own death.

“This is me,” she whispered. “I’m dead to the world.”

“Futaba,” Makoto began to say, but before she could finish her thought, the entirely pyramid began to shake as a low, ghastly wail echoed in the distance.

The sound immediately brought Futaba to her knees. She dropped to the ground, clutching her head in her hands and whispering to herself, “Not again, not _now._ I don’t want to hear it…”

A second passed before there was another, louder wail, but this time, Akira thought he could make out a single word:

_Fuuuutaaaaabaaa…_

Something landed on the exterior of the pyramid with a deafening thud that shook the entire building to its core, causing a cloud of debris to fall from the ceiling. Akira coughed, waving the dust away and looking up just in time to see the first crack of light shine in between the stones, and then all at once, an entire chunk of the pyramid was torn away, causing bright sunlight to flood the room and temporarily blind the Thieves.

“What’s going on?” Morgana asked. He squinted up at the pyramid’s new skylight. “This isn’t her shadow, is it?”

“Surely it can’t be,” Yusuke said. “Isn’t this her shadow right here?”

Akira blinked rapidly, begging his sight to return to him. The light was so bright and the sky so brilliantly blue that at first he could only see a featureless blob, but his eyes quickly adjusted, allowing him to make out more details. It was some kind of creature staring down at them, with a human head and shoulder-length black hair and a neck that seemed to go in a bit too long for a person, and it was covered in – was it really _fur?_ Akira had no idea; this monster was something he had never seen before.

“Mom…”

A weak, fragile voice cut through the sound of rumbling stone, and Akira whipped around to find Futaba staring in wide-eyed horror at the creature above her.

“_FUTABA,_” the monster snarled, swiping its paw against the pyramid and tearing away the rest of the wall. Without anything to hide behind, the monster with Wakaba’s head was fully exposed, rearing back before slamming its paws down onto the floor.

“_This_ is Futaba’s mother?” Ann yelped.

“Damn it,” Morgana growled, pulling out his slingshot and tracking the monster’s movements. “If her memories have become this distorted, then we’re in for a hell of a fight!”

The creature roared and flapped its wings, violently buffeting them with gusts of wind sharp enough to slice the skin. Akira put himself bodily between Futaba and the cognitive monster, shielding her from the brunt of the attack.

“Not again, not again,” Futaba whimpered. She had curled up into a ball, her hands threaded into her hair and tugging so hard Akira could see her scalp. “I’m… worthless, a murderer; I shouldn’t even be here, shouldn’t even exist…”

“Joker, what’s the plan?” Makoto shouted, summoning Johanna and revving her engine.

Akira craned his neck around. The others were lining up in front of the monster, trying to form a protective barrier between it and Futaba, but the creature was so massive that it almost didn’t matter.

“Futaba,” Akira said, urgency in his voice. “Futaba, I need you to get up with me.”

She seemed not to hear him. The twisted abomination masquerading as Wakaba had wormed itself into Futaba’s brain, paralyzing her – she simply couldn’t move, even if she wished to.

“Joker!” Yusuke shouted. 

“Try and keep that thing distracted!” Akira called back to him. 

“Okay, but _how?_” Ryuji asked. “It’s so damn far away, we can’t do shit to it!”

“I don’t know!” Akira snapped back. He swore quietly to himself, his eyes watering from the wind. “Just try… I need to move Futaba somewhere safe.”

“O-okay!” Ann exclaimed. “We’ll figure something out; Joker, you protect Futaba-chan!”

Putting his trust as a leader into his teammates, Akira turned his back on the battlefield and crouched down beside Futaba. She was shivering, her fears made manifest before her in a far more physical way than she ever could have expected, and he wracked his mind for something, _anything_, to snap her out of this.

Finally, he settled on: “I hear voices too, sometimes.”

Futaba said nothing, but she did grow still, no longer rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet. Akira took it as a sign to continue.

“Kids from school,” he explained. “They like to talk behind my back. They think I can’t hear them, but they’re not trying to hide it. Not really. And… because of this place, I hear a lot more than anyone wants me to, I think.”

Slowly, Futaba’s iron grip on her hair became slightly less intense. She peered up at him through her bangs.

“You can try not to dwell on it, but it still hurts, huh?” Akira asked. “And if you hear something enough, you start to think it might be true. But it’s _not_. You have to believe that.”

Futaba blinked hard, squeezing her eyes shut. “But… the letter,” she said, her voice quivering on every syllable. “Why would anyone lie about something like that?”

“Forget about the letter,” Akira said. “Those men – they’re the kind of people only interested in self gain. If they can benefit in some way, they don’t care who gets hurt.”

He felt a twinge of rage. From the moment they appeared in Futaba’s first memory, those owl-headed men in suits had struck a chord with Akira – they were cut from the same cloth as the man who had framed him.

“He’s right.”

Akira and Futaba both looked up in time to see Futaba’s shadow sit upright in her sarcophagus.

“Think back,” the shadow said. She phased through the coffin so that she could stand by Futaba’s side, staring down at her with bright, yellow eyes. “Trust only your own memory. What do you recall about your mother?”

“She was… busy,” Futaba said. Her voice was trembling, her cheeks wet with tears she couldn’t hold back, but she swallowed down her pain and continued to recall her final memories of her mother. “And she was strict with me, but she was always… kind.”

“Sojiro said so, too,” Akira agreed. “She loved you, didn’t she?”

Futaba sniffed. “Of course she did.”

“So then, what of the agents?” Futaba’s shadow pressed on. “The ones who informed you of your mother’s death…”

It took a moment for the pieces to click into place, and Futaba’s face scrunched up in confusion. 

“They lied?” 

“Your mom’s research was important,” Akira said. “If someone wanted to get their hands on it without giving her the credit…” 

Behind them, the cognition of Wakaba roared ferociously, and Akira heard his teammates cry out in pain. 

Futaba, however, did not hear it. She was locked in a silent conversation with her own shadow, and though Akira could no longer hear the words that passed between them, the scene felt familiar all the same. He watched as Futaba’s shadow grew pale, and shortly disappeared altogether; he watched as Futaba’s expression morphed from one of shock to one of rage, watched as she pushed herself up off the ground and squared her shoulders. He watched determination blaze to life within her eyes, only for those eyes to be covered by a mask of her own, sleek and modern, and he knew exactly what it meant; he remembered it well. 

“Joker!” Ryuji yelled, retreating from the battle with a frantic expression on his face. “We’re really in – oh shit, what the hell is _that_?” 

He stumbled to a halt, dumbstruck by the sight of a massive, metallic UFO shimmering into existence above the pyramid. It cast a shadow over the entirely battlefield, humming ominously and hovering just over Futaba, who looked up, pushing her mask over her forehead and staring, wide-eyed, as a beam of pale green light shone down over her, abducting her into the ship’s confines. 

“Futaba-chan?!” Ann yelled, just as Futaba blipped out of sight. 

Then, seconds later, a familiar voice crackled to life in Akira’s ear. 

“H-hey, can you hear me? Um… Joker?” 

“Futaba?” he replied. 

“What?” Morgana exclaimed. “F-Futaba? Don’t tell me…”

“Yeah. Um, everyone, I think… I get it now. So, thanks.” Futaba took a deep breath, and her UFO spun in place, whirring aggressively in the cognitive Wakaba’s direction. “And I don’t really know what’s going on, but… I really, really wanna get that thing out of my head. S-so let me help!” 

His teammates cheered, turning to face their foe with renewed vigor, and any anxiety Akira had felt up until now melted away. With this – undeniable proof of Futaba’s conviction to confront and overcome her own warped perception of her mother and her past – he knew they had nothing to fear, not from this monster and not from any hacker. If Futaba could awaken to a Persona within her _own_ Palace, Akira was certain she could take care of something as insignificant as Medjed in her sleep.


	11. The Thrill of Victory

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains explicit sexual content, starting at the double bars and running to the end of the chapter.

* * *

  
The “fight” against Futaba’s cognition of her mother could hardly be called such. With the Palace’s owner on their side, the Thieves had no trouble defeating the beast: not only could Futaba track her every move, but she could manipulate the fabric of her own mind to alter her Palace’s appearance in their favor, and it took only a few blows from a newly-materialized ballista to ground the flying monstrosity permanently.

It took a toll on Futaba, however. Once the cognitive Wakaba had wheezed its last breath and collapsed against the pyramid, Futaba all but toppled out of her Persona, falling to the ground where Akira only just managed to catch her. Quickly, the Thieves gathered her up and fled the Palace while it crumbled beneath them, stumbling back to reality in the alleyway outside Sojiro’s house.

“Futaba,” Ann said, breathless from their run. “Is she okay?”

Akira looked down at the girl he still held in his arms. She felt impossibly light, incredibly lithe and with almost no muscle clinging to her bones, but she was breathing steadily, even if she wasn’t moving.

“She’s okay,” Akira said. “She’s sleeping, I think.”

“Yeah, well, she _did_ just get a Persona, not to mention helpin’ us take down that cognition,” Ryuji said. “She’s pro’bly exhausted.”

“Let’s take her back inside, then,” Makoto said, pushing the still-unlocked gate open. “It hasn’t been too long, has it? Hopefully Boss never even noticed she was gone…”

They carried Futaba back to her bedroom, and as Akira lay her down on her futon, she began to stir, her eyes squinting open behind her glasses.

“Hu… what happened?” she asked in a rough, sandy voice.

“We left the Metaverse,” Akira said. He glanced at the other Thieves and subtly motioned for them to step back, to give Futaba some space. “Do you remember?”

“Metaverse… that place… it wasn’t just a dream?” Yawning, Futaba sat up, and when she finally noticed the plethora of Thieves all crammed into her tiny bedroom, she froze. “U-uh… um… you’re _all_ here?” she squeaked, drawing her knees up to her chest.

“Annnnd that’s our cue to get out of here!” Ann exclaimed. Throwing her arms out in a wide circle, she ushered Ryuji and Yusuke away, catching Makoto up in their wake. “We’ll see you later, Joker; you’ll keep us posted, right?”

Akira nodded, waving them out, and once they’d escaped into the hallway, Morgana shoved himself against Futaba’s bedroom door, closing it behind them.

Futaba took a few long, measured breaths, and slowly her shoulders began to relax.

“Um,” she said again. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Akira said. He stood a few feet from Futaba’s bed, a bit awkward towering over her like this, but he couldn’t see any other available seating aside from the bed itself, which he imagined would overstep a few boundaries.

“So…” Futaba began, twisting her bed sheet between her hands, “you’re the one I’ve been texting, right?”

“Yeah,” Akira said. “Akira, if you don’t feel like calling me Joker.”

“I know. I’ve heard Sojiro say it.”

Then she trailed off, plunging them into another round of awkward silence.

“We don’t have to talk right now,” Akira told her. “You just went through a lot. It’s okay if you need time to process things.”

“I… really don’t get what just happened,” Futaba admitted. “A world made out of cognition, and my Persona… it sounds just like something out of my mom’s research, but I never thought I’d actually get to see it.”

Morgana jumped back up onto Futaba’s bed and trotted over to her side. “To be honest, when you first contacted us, I never would have guessed you’d have the potential to awaken a Persona, either,” he said. “It’s impressive. Are you feeling all right?”

Had Futaba been more lucid, she might have been startled by Morgana’s sudden speech, but as it was, she simply furrowed her eyebrows, tilting her head in confusion.

“Kitty, you can talk out here, too?”

“Not a cat,” Akira said before Morgana could launch into his usual tirade, “but yeah. You saw him fighting with us inside your Palace, right?”

“Oh yeah. Mona, right?” Futaba asked.

“Mona in there, Morgana out here,” he said, puffing his chest out proudly. “Nice to meet you, for real this time.”

“A talking cat… well, it makes about as much sense as anything else,” Futaba said, shrugging and lying back down on her side. She attempted to stifle a yawn, unsuccessfully, and closed her eyes. “’m tired, you’re right. I think I’ll nap for a while…”

“Hey,” Morgana said quickly, “you’re, uh, you’re not gonna forget, right? About Medjed?”

“Medjed,” Futaba murmured. She looped her arms around a pillow and snuggled up against it. “Right. I’ll take care of them… tomorrow, okay?”

“Futaba?” Morgana asked. Receiving no response, he padded over to her face and bopped her lightly with his paw. “H-Hey, she fell asleep again!”

“It’s okay,” Akira said. “She’s been through a lot. We should let her rest.”

“I guess so,” Morgana said. He hopped back up into Akira's bag, and they left Futaba's room, closing the door gently enough not to wake her. Akira moved through Sojiro’s house on the balls of his feet, hoping to avoid any potentially awkward conversations about how and why he was here in the first place, but no one troubled him on his way out, and he wandered back over to Leblanc unhindered.

The café was empty save for Sojiro, who was standing close to the cash register, antsy on his feet. The moment Akira stepped inside, Sojiro looked to him and said, “Ah, good. You’re back. Close up for me tonight, okay?”

“Sure,” Akira said. “Did something happen?”

“Not exactly.” Sojiro seemed to notice his frantic pace and slowed down, a trace of embarrassment on his face. “I just feel like I need to go home early tonight. Call it a hunch.”

“Okay. No problem,” Akira said, and the moment he did, Sojiro was out the door, the bell jingling quietly behind him.

“I wonder if he’s worried about Futaba,” Morgana said.

Shrugging, Akira flipped the door lock and began to shut off the café lights. “Could be. A father’s intuition?”

“Something like that.” Morgana sighed, jumping up onto a barstool and watching Akira clean off the counter. “I guess this mission really wasn’t any different than our previous, after all. We’re just going to have to wait and see how things play out, like always.”

Akira hummed in vague agreement, but honestly, he wasn't so sure. They had no direct control over the situation, true, but unlike a change of heart, they weren’t waiting for a scumbag human to see the error of their ways. Futaba had already proven herself to be reliable – she would come through for them. Akira was certain.  
  


* * *

**  
>>Unknown Number:** it is done

Akira blinked down at his phone.

“Futaba messaged me,” he announced.

With nothing else to do, Akira’s friends had gradually flocked to Leblanc the next day, and the day after that, all still anxious to see the fruits of their labor in action, but none feeling quite so bold as to break into Sojiro’s house again, especially unannounced. They asked him vague questions about Futaba’s condition, but these only resulted in confusion; if Futaba was behaving strangely, Sojiro hadn’t noticed. This message from Alibaba’s text profile was the first contact they’d had since Futaba awoke to her Persona.

“It is done,” Yusuke repeated. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

**>>Unknown Number:** oh my god, it means Medjed  
**>>Unknown Number:** stupid Inari

“…does she mean me?” Yusuke asked.

“Forget that,” Ryuji said, waving a hand dismissively. “What’s this about Medjed?”

“Quick, someone check their website!” Morgana suggested. “Someone who can operate a phone with their fingers instead of paws.”

“Okay, okay, chill out!” Ann said, pulling out her phone and typing a few keywords into the search engine. “Okay, so… woah, what the heck?”

Medjed’s webpage was nigh unrecognizable. The domain name remained the same, but everything else had been torn down, replaced with the Phantom Thieves’ logo, which bounced tauntingly across the screen. In the background, four simple words repeated endlessly: We win, you lose.

“This is… Futaba’s doing?!” Makoto asked.

**>>Unknown Number:** Mwehehe :3c  
**>>Unknown Number:** You’re welcome  
**>>Unknown Number:** I did a little more than just hack the website, but that’ll get people talking  
**>>Unknown Number:** Trust me  
**>>Unknown Number:** They won’t be bothering you anymore

“Oh my god, news sites are already picking this up,” Ann said, flipping away from their homepage to search for Medjed more generally. “I’ve got a ton of hits just from the last hour.”

Everyone took to their phones and discovered the same thing: dozens of articles, more popping up every few minutes, with sensational headlines proclaiming the Phantom Thieves’ stunning declaration of victory over Medjed. No one seemed to know quite what to make of it, and more than a few people seemed to regard this incident as proof that the Phantom Thieves were more dangerous than Medjed themselves, but for the most part, response was overwhelmingly positive – or simply overwhelming.

Compared to how little traction the Thieves had received in this past, Akira was inclined to view it as the later. He couldn’t be sure what it was about this change of heart that captivated everyone so much; perhaps the public just found it exciting. Sometimes, that seemed to be the only thing that mattered.

“This is going to be _huge_,” Morgana said, his eyes shining brightly. “We absolutely must celebrate this victory!”

“We should do something Futaba-chan would enjoy, too!” Ann suggested. “Oh, but… do you think she’ll want to join up with us?”

“Given what we know about her mother, it’s certainly possible – probable, even,” Yusuke said.

“Let’s ask her at the celebration, then!” Ryuji said. “That’s the best time, right?”

“We should keep things simple, however,” Makoto said. “Remember, Futaba-chan was a recluse up until just recently… even though we’ve changed her heart, it’s going to be difficult to change her habits quickly.”

Akira nodded. “We should take things slowly, I think,” he said. “But something small here at Leblanc should be okay.”

“I can sneak over to Boss’s place and ease her into the idea, if you want,” Morgana said. “Maybe it’d go better if she had more time to prepare?”

“Although, hey… can’t she hear everything we’re saying right now?” Ann asked.

The group paused and glanced awkwardly around the café. Even after a thorough investigation, they still hadn’t discovered exactly how Futaba had bugged the place. Akira looked down at his phone; there was no response.

“Well… that just means she can start thinking about it ahead of time,” Morgana said. “Let’s give her a few days. Plus, we should probably monitor Medjed’s response – if they give one. It won’t hurt to be cautious, even if it seems like we’ve succeeded.”

The other Thieves seemed content to leave the conversation at that, and they made their separate ways home, swapping celebration ideas while Morgana sneaked over to the Sakura residence to check in with Futaba directly. Left alone, Akira stared out into space, idly tapping his foot against the floor. They had won, yes – this was their victory lap, and he should have been _glad_ for the momentary reprieve – but nonetheless, Akira was restless. Saving Futaba and defeating Medjed in one fell swoop had left him energized and itching for more. What was next?

He pulled out his phone, meaning to open up a browser and poke around online to distract himself, but before he could, the Meta-nav’s sharp design drew his eye.

He… shouldn’t. The last thing he needed to do right now was put himself in danger.

But their celebration would be so much better if they had a little extra cash…

Slinging his Morgana-free bag over his shoulder, Akira didn’t even bother giving Sojiro an explanation before leaving the café, striding down to the alley outside Yongen’s train station, and slipping away into the Metaverse. The others would say it was reckless of him, but Akira rarely felt anxiety about traveling to Mementos alone any more, walking through the caverns with practiced ease – and besides, the weather was fair today. Even by himself, he shouldn’t have much trouble shaking down a few dozen shadows for their cash.

At first, he didn’t have much luck. The weak shadows lingering near the surface skittered away from Akira on instinct, and the few shadows he did manage to corner and slay were holding a pitifully small amount of money. He picked up a few hundred yen here and there, maybe over a thousand if he was lucky, but he knew that if he _really_ wanted to satiate his lust for gold, he’d need to move deeper down. This, however, would expose Akira to even greater risk: the farther from the surface he traveled, the darker Mementos grew, the more restless the shadows, and somewhere, distantly, Akira heard the sounds of battle resonating off the gloomy cavern walls…

It wasn’t necessarily cause for alarm. Shadows fought with one another occasionally, but this noise struck him differently, made him curious about the commotion. He quieted his footsteps and clung to the walls, tracking the sounds to a little dead-end alleyway in which three Naga had made their home. Akira could see cards scattered on the ground, and surmised that the Naga, thinking themselves safe, had let their guard down, which left them wide open to ambush from a particularly cunning hunter. Lost in the chaos of battle and dressed so darkly, their assailant was difficult to spot, but still, Akira _did_, and a rush of recognition washed over him, leaving him warm inside.

In truth, he hadn’t come down here with any intent aside from making money, but he couldn’t deny that a part of him wondered, as he did every time he came to Mementos, if he would run into Crow… and now, here he was. What were the odds? Mementos shifted and changed every day, its tunnels bending to the will of the people, making it impossible to chart out a purposeful course, and yet somehow, they kept running into one another. As if the moment Akira thought about finding him, Mementos reacted to his will and guided him towards his goal.

Taking cover behind a pile of rocks, Akira watched the fight from afar. It was three on one, the Naga warriors slithering around until they had Crow flanked, but Crow hardly seemed concerned. He had Robin shoot an arrow of light energy at one, and while it was disoriented, Crow vaulted over its body and took cover behind its tail, using it as a shield and forcing another Naga to strike its own comrade. Then, once it was sufficiently weakened, Crow drew his sword and plunged it into the shadow’s back, striking through the heart and killing it instantly.

Loki lashed out at the remaining two Naga with his claws, putting some distance between them and Crow – although not quite enough space for Crow to fully dodge the Naga’s next strike. Akira heard him hiss in pain and whip around, recklessly striking the Naga in retaliation.

He was doing well, Akira thought; he’d almost taken them all out. As he was focusing his energy on one enemy, however, Crow failed to notice the last Naga creeping up behind him, preparing to strike. With one blow from his sword, Crow felled his target, but at the exact same moment, the shadow behind him raised its spear, and as it did, Akira took out his own gun, waited for a clean shot, and… fired.

His bullet flew through the air, piercing the Naga squarely in the back. It gurgled and collapsed to the ground before dissolving completely, and Crow, shocked, spun around, scanning the area with the scope of his gun. His eyes darted frantically around until they finally landed on Akira, who had stowed away his gun and was now lounging with his arms crossed casually over the rock pile.

Scowling, Crow shoved his gun back into its holster and began to approach.

“Moving on from stealing hearts to stealing kills now, are you, Joker?” he asked.

Akira locked his fingers together and rested his chin on his hands, grinning. “You looked like you needed some help, that’s all,” he replied.

“Oh, bullshit. You just wanted to show off. You’re lucky you didn’t end up with a laser between your eyes, you know,” Crow said, miming a gun with his fingers and aiming at Akira’s forehead.

“You’d really mistake me for a shadow?” Akira asked. “That hurts, Crow.”

Crow gave him a withering look, which just caused Akira to laugh as he pushed himself up off the ground and back onto his feet.

“_Some_one’s in a good mood today,” Crow commented.

“Yeah, I guess,” Akira said. “We had another successful heist.”

“Did you, now? I didn’t see a calling card… ”

“Yeah, well, this one was a bit… unorthodox, let’s say.”

“Unorthodox, hm?” Crow asked, clearly unimpressed by Akira’s question-dodging. “Don’t tell me you managed to change the heart of Medjed itself.”

Akira paused to consider this.

“Actually, yeah. That’s basically what happened.”

Crow’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“…ah,” he said at last, “you’re making fun of me. Fine; you don’t have to tell me.”

“Believe what you want to believe,” Akira said. He shrugged and affected a casual stance, leaning back on one leg with his hands in his pockets. “So then, what brings you here today?”

“Shouldn’t I be asking you that question?” Crow asked in reply. “It’s not one of your usual infiltration days, and you’re alone, too. And given the fact that you just changed a heart, or so you claim…”

He trailed off, eyeing Akira with no small amount of suspicion.

Akira met his gaze head-on and declared, “I want treasure.”

Crow barked out a short laugh. “Is that so? How simple… but I won’t deny that treasure is nice.” He checked his weapons, ensuring they were still snug in their holsters, and said, “Let me take a cut, and I’ll assist you.”

“What, you want to come with?” Akira asked. He wanted to press Crow on that – he’d never struck Akira as the type to care much about money – but he was still jittery with excitement, and sharing that excitement with someone else sounded like a pretty good idea right about now. “Well, fine, but we need to go deeper. These shadows hardly have enough cash to pay for dinner.”

“You say that like you intend to scare me off,” Crow said. He fell into step beside Akira, and then a step ahead, motioning for him to follow. “Please. You really _are_ trying to make fun of me, Joker.”

They walked for some time, taking shortcuts and sneaking past sleeping shadows that looked too weak to bother with until they reached the middle depths. As a team, Akira and Crow were rarely ambushed by roving shadows – Akira’s eyes were too sharp and Crow’s judgment too keen, which made it much more likely for them to get the drop on the shadows than the other way around – but this level of Mementos was oddly quiet, devoid of enemies. It made the back of Akira’s neck prickle uncomfortably; this kind of emptiness was rarely a good sign.

The path they were currently traversing was strange, too: one long, unbroken tunnel, snaking and winding its way to an unknown destination until they rounded a corner and the whole cavern suddenly opened up into a wide room. The flood lights shining on the train tracks barely illuminated more than a few feet into the cave before everything fell away into darkness – but within that darkness, Akira could undeniably see two chests, one drab and unassuming but the other glittering gold and extraordinarily tempting.

“Seems there’s treasure here.”

Akira nearly jumped at the sound of Crow’s voice so suddenly close to his ear. From his peripheral vision, he saw Crow lean in, peering around the corner alongside him. Dropping his voice to an even lower timbre, Crow caught Akira’s eye and said, “Shall we take it, Joker?”

Akira swallowed down the lump forming in his throat, adjusted one of his gloves, and replied, “You have to ask?”

Crow rewarded him with another sharp smile.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

Like they were shadows themselves, Akira and Crow crept through the cave, seeking out the plain-looking chest first. It wasn’t locked, but as Akira was in the process of gently prying it open, he felt a hand come down on his shoulder.

“Joker,” Crow whispered. “There’s a shadow.”

Without moving, Akira glanced to the side. At first, he couldn’t see what Crow was talking about, but then part of the darkness began to move, and a lumbering shadow shifted into view. Akira scooped up the shiny hunk of metal from inside the chest and stood up straight.

Matching Crow’s volume, Akira murmured to him, “Let’s tear it to shreds.”

Taking cover in the darkness, they waited until the shadow turned its back to them, and then Akira launched himself towards the enemy, striking it from behind and splitting it apart into four lion-headed demons. The pack of Anzu screeched in pain from the sneak attack, their purple feather-fur ruffling in agitation, and they took to the air, flapping their wings roughly and battering Akira back with currents of sharp wind. Digging his feet into the ground, Akira held firm, pulling out his dagger and lunging forward.

In tandem, he and Crow summoned their Personas, unleashing two waves of pitch-black magic onto their hapless enemies – but the shadows were quick, and it was difficult to target any one in particular when there were four of them all bobbing and weaving through the air. Akira could hardly get his attacks to connect, and judging by his increasingly agitated shouts, Crow wasn’t having much luck either. Finally, in a bout of frustration, Akira pulled out his gun and fired haphazardly into the pack.

He definitely hit _some_thing; a spray of red blood shot out from the middle of the group, and one of the shadows howled miserably. If he squinted and focused, Akira could pinpoint which shadow he’d managed to hit, and saw that it was limping heavily, almost unable to hold itself up.

“Crow!” Akira shouted, and when he could feel Crow’s eyes on him, he fired another bullet, piercing through an Anzu’s wings and staggering it in the air. Crow understood immediately, whipping out his own firearm and raining down a hail of bullets alongside Akira until the whole group was grounded.

Akira and Crow closed in around the Anzu, holding them up with weapons that were nearly out of ammo – but the shadows didn’t have to know that. Akira fixed them with a piercing stare, as if daring them to call his bluff.

Their resolve crumpled instantly, and the leader of the pack looked up at Akira with frenzied, panicking eyes. “W-wait now, what is it you want? You want cash?” It laughed nervously and threw a handful of yen onto the ground by Akira’s feet. Without lowering his gun, Akira stooped down and swiped up the money, counting it quickly.

Pocket change, really. They could find more lying on the ground if they took the time. Akira swept forward, pressed the barrel of his gun against the shadow’s head, leaned down low and close, and said,

_“You can do better than that.”_

The shadow paled, its ears falling back, and it shakily drew out a set of bills from some hidden space by its side. Akira snatched them up quickly – it was more than triple the original offering – and smiled wide. He stepped back and lowered his gun.

“Get lost,” he said, and the shadows scattered instantly.

Akira waited until the creatures were completely out of his sight before he finally dropped his guard and stowed his gun away again. All was quiet, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was still being watched, and he only had to turn around to confirm that feeling: Crow was watching him with hazy, unblinking eyes, a look on his face that Akira wanted to call _awe,_ but… over what?

Eventually, Crow’s eyes shifted up to meet Akira’s.

“Impressive,” he said, sounding out each syllable low and slow.

That lump from earlier began to crawl its way back up Akira’s throat, but he shrugged off the odd sensation and instead turned his attention to the second treasure chest, fishing a lockpick out of his pocket and getting to work. He could feel Crow move up beside him, watching him work with that same casual aloofness he always projected when he wanted to seem disinterested in something.

“This had better be worth the effort,” Crow muttered. “After all that, if we—”

Yet before he could finish his sentence, something slammed into Crow’s back, sending him flying forward, crashing into the treasure chest with a surprised shout. Akira dropped his lockpick and whipped around, finding himself face to face with a trio of bipedal cats, each brandishing a pair of swords. They were spotted like cheetahs and stood a good head taller than Akira and Crow both, with long capes billowing around their bodies, and when they stood shoulder-to-shoulder like this, they formed a surprisingly solid wall. A quick survey of the room told Akira they had all but backed him and Crow into a corner, too.

“Damn it,” Crow groaned, shoving himself away from the chest and turning to face the enemy. “They caught us off-guard, and they’re strong, too… we’ll be slaughtered if we try to fight our way out.”

“So what, then?” Akira asked. One of the Ose took a swipe at Crow, and Akira grabbed him by the shoulder, pulling him bodily out of the way and taking the brunt of the attack on his side. “We’re cornered. We _have_ to fight.”

Crow roughly shook off Akira’s hand and, for a moment, said nothing. Finally he sighed, gritting his teeth. “Fine then,” he said. “We don’t have a choice, so… will you watch my back, Joker?”

Akira did not like the tone of his voice one bit.

“Crow, what are you planning?”

Frenzied, Crow turned on him and snapped, “Will you?!”

“Yes!” Akira exclaimed. “Always. Crow, what—”

Without waiting to hear the rest of the question, Crow summoned Loki, who looked straight at Akira and grinned as he always did before tapping a single finger to the top of Crow’s head. In an instant, Crow’s entire demeanor changed: where before he had been tense, his shoulders drawn tight with concentration, he now stood loose and limber, almost wild. Faster than Akira had ever seen him, Crow surged forward and struck the enemies with a wide slash from his sword, slicing a notable gash across all three of their chests.

Even from this distance, Akira could see how much stronger Crow’s attacks had become. Did he always have the ability to fight this way? Now, as if he had removed whatever mental block kept him from fighting with every ounce of his true strength, he tore into his foe, oblivious to the world around him. As he brought one shadow to the brink of death, a sense of déjà vu swept through Akira; just like when he had been fighting those Naga before, Crow suffered from such strong tunnel vision that he didn’t notice the other shadows approaching from the side.

“Crow, on your right!” Akira shouted, too late; a sword came crashing down across Crow’s stomach, and he went _flying_, crumpling to the ground and groaning. Akira balked. It hadn’t been that strong of an attack… but with the way Crow was throwing himself into the fight, he couldn’t have been expending any energy to brace himself for counterattacks. Now Akira was beginning to understand Crow’s gambit. High risk, high reward – he could do a lot of damage like this, if only he could avoid taking hits.

The Ose that Crow had been fighting stood up, a wicked grin on its face as it stalked forward alongside its companions. It must have thought Crow to be easy prey while prone on the ground like that, not expecting Akira to leap in front of his downed teammate and block their path.

“_I’m_ your target,” Akira said, drawing his dagger with a flourish. “So eyes on me.”

The shadows roared and, helpless to ignore Akira’s taunt, turned their attention on him instead of Crow. He parried a few strikes with his dagger, but their assault was relentless; if he could just have a second to catch his breath, to tear off his mask and summon Arsène to the field, then maybe he and Crow would stand a chance, but the Ose granted him no reprieve. His muscles began to burn, and he could feel himself slowing down…

“Joker, get back!”

Crow’s voice called out to him, and on instinct alone, Akira shoved the nearest shadow away and leapt backwards just in time to avoid a huge blast of white-hot energy from Loki. When the spell faded away, the shadows were hissing in pain, their eyes squeezed shut – blinded by the magic. Akira didn’t need to look at Crow to understand that this was their one window of opportunity, and he immediately took off running, shoving past one of the shadows and making for the exit. Crow was right on his heels, barking at Akira to “Go, just _go_, Joker!”

They tore through the one-way path, retracing their steps until they reached an intersection, at which point Akira grabbed Crow by the arm and yanked him to the left. He wasn’t sure if they’d come this way before, but didn’t have time to slow down and think about it, and even if they ended up backtracking, it would be worth it just to put some distance between themselves and their enemies, who were still pursuing them, snarling and shouting.

The tunnel seemed for a moment like it would keep going on forever, but then, at last, they found an escalator – a way down. They flew over the stairs, jumping two, three steps at a time, and tumbled to a halt on the next floor, tripping head over heel and ending up sprawled out in an undignified heap. Immediately, Akira leapt to his feet, holding his dagger out protectively in front of him, but a quick scan of the area told him that this floor contained nothing but a little station platform. Aside from a glass compartment for waiting passengers, the place was completely empty.

Beside Akira, Crow got to his feet as well, and the two of them shared a glance. They were both panting, red in the face from exertion and more than a little sweaty, but they were alive and whole. Akira stuttered out a nervous laugh, one that quickly morphed into something louder, more raucous, and Crow chuckled along with him before allowing himself to laugh outright, too, until the cavern was ringing with the sound of their unfiltered, manic joy.

As they entered the small glass compartment to take a rest, Crow threw himself down onto one of the long wooden benches, while Akira sat down more delicately, picking a seat directly across from him. They caught their breath, both still giggling a little, leftover laughs shaking through them like aftershocks from an earthquake. Finally, Crow’s laughter died down, and he went quiet, peering curiously at Akira from behind his mask with an odd expression on his face: a little hazy, a little distant, just like when he had cast that weird buff on himself in battle. Strange, Akira thought. Could he still be feeling the effects of the spell…?

“You look like you want to say something,” Akira said, and Crow jumped a little, startled to have been called out on his staring.

“I was just thinking,” he said. “That was impressive, what you just did.”

“What, running for my life?”

Amusement flickered across Crow’s face. “Extorting so much money from that shadow, I mean,” he said, and he stood up, casually crossing his arms over his chest and regarding Akira with an unreadable expression. “I’ve never heard you use that tone of voice before, Joker. So demanding… are you like this often? Back in reality, perhaps?

Akira shrugged. “Not in the real world. But here? Sure.”

“Yes.” Crow’s eyes lit up, as if that was the answer he’d been looking for. “_Yes,_ this world…” he said, advancing on Akira and placing one hand against the glass wall behind him, looming overhead, “it’s amazing, isn’t it? We can do anything we want here. And no one else knows about it…”

“Mm,” Akira hummed, his eyes locked onto Crow, who slid his hand further down the glass until it was resting just above Akira’s shoulder. Crow always moved so gracefully, like he was made of smoke, so swift and silent that Akira didn’t notice when he pulled himself up onto the bench, trapping Akira with one knee on either side of his thighs – until he was all but sitting in Akira’s lap. 

“Crow,” he asked, his voice a little strained, “what are you doing?”

“You watch me,” Crow stated simply. “In battle, out of battle, with the Thieves, when we’re alone. Why?”

Akira tried to look away, but Crow was all around him – there was nowhere else to look. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” he said.

Crow hummed, tilting his head curiously to the side. “I’ll try another question, then. You… are attracted to me, right, Joker?”

The words hit Akira like a shot of adrenaline straight to the heart, his pulse still fluttering as rapidly as if he was running for his life. His body rushed with heat, and he expected Crow to taunt him for growing so obviously flustered at such a simple question, but Crow never did. Despite the smirk on his face, his eyes looked more serious than Akira had ever seen before. 

“…That’s pretty presumptuous of you, isn’t it?” Akira asked – but he had waited just a hair too long to respond. Crow’s eyes narrowed and his smirk grew longer.

“Right,” Crow said dryly. “So when you stare at me while we’re exploring, you’re just – what? Sizing me up? Afraid I’m turning into a liability?”

“No – of course not.”

“But you don’t deny that you look.”

Akira opened his mouth, only to close it again. He _wanted_ to deny it – Crow was dangerous after all, and he could have been ANYONE; he could rip the Phantom Thieves to shreds from the inside out if Akira let him, and yet…

“Well, it’s fine,” Crow said when Akira didn’t reply. He dipped down, running the edge of his mask along Akira’s neck, sharp enough to poke but not to draw blood. “Because I look, too.”

Akira took a shaky breath. A quiet part of his brain told him, _Be careful – you’re vulnerable right now. He could turn this on you in an instant._

A much louder part of his brain said, _Did you hear that? He’s been watching you, too._

It was all too much. Riding high on Medjed’s defeat and on the rush of running for his life – Akira was drunk on the thrill of being _alive_, and he wanted nothing more than to chase that feeling… wherever it took him.

“Anyway,” Akira heard Crow say, his voice cutting through the whirlwind of thoughts suddenly plaguing Akira’s mind, “let’s do something about it.”

“What – right now?”

“When else?”

Akira swallowed thickly. He needed to be rational here, but every rational fiber in his body had been chased away by Crow, who was leaning in maddeningly close to Akira – close, but not touching. Not yet. For all his posturing, he almost seemed nervous, waiting on Akira to either close the gap between them or push him away. 

The choice should have been obvious. This kind of thing hardly appealed to Akira, or at least, it didn’t usually; the thought of having physical intimacy with a stranger had always struck Akira as somewhat hollow. But then again, Crow was hardly a stranger, and even accounting for that mask of his, Crow wasn’t bad-looking, Akira had to admit. Maybe this could just be… fun. Being with Crow was fun, and when they were down here, they could fight and flirt and get up to all kinds of trouble, and then Akira could leave the Metaverse and none of it had to mean anything. There was no reason for this to be any different.

Right?

“…yeah, okay,” Akira said.

“Good,” Crow purred, finally settling down onto Akira’s lap and pushing Akira’s jacket away from his chest. Akira helped him pull it the rest of the way off, and Crow met him with deft, clawed fingers, immediately undoing the two lowest buttons on Akira’s vest and sliding a hand beneath, his nails dragging delicately over Akira’s stomach.

The room leapt up several degrees in temperature, and Akira felt suddenly hot around the collar. Crow was warm in his lap, heavy and panting and gripping Akira’s shoulder hard enough that Akira could feel his claws, while Akira himself hovered his hands over Crow’s arms, uncertain of how to proceed.

In truth, he wanted to kiss him. Was it strange? It seemed like the right thing to do in this sort of situation – you were supposed to kiss someone when you were attracted to them, right? But Crow’s outfit forced a certain degree of space between them: his mask, his collar, both were too pointed and prominent for Akira to get close without being stabbed. It was just like Crow, to be honest, almost amusing how closely his outfit matched his personality, how both were tailored to keep someone from getting too close.

Crow growled his impatience, snatching up one of Akira’s hands and placing it firmly on his hip. “Come on,” he snapped. “I gave you permission, so why don’t you hurry up and get your hands on me, _leader?_”

_This is a bad idea,_ Akira told himself, even as he gave in to Crow’s demands, gliding gloved fingers smoothly along Crow’s sides, over his hips, squeezing and tugging him even closer. He groped Crow shamelessly, and as the last bit of his self-consciousness slipped away, he realized he no longer had any reason to deny it: Crow had a _great_ ass, and he was all legs, more muscular than Akira would have assumed but all the more attractive for it. It made Akira want to tear that mask right off; Crow's body was already perfect, so maybe his face would be just Akira’s type, too.

Akira wouldn’t do it, though. That would be a violation of their unspoken agreement, and besides… somehow, Crow was even more alluring when he was covered head to toe than if he were nude.

“Ha… you really are interesting,” Crow said, bringing his hips down onto Akira’s and grinding against him with a wicked smile. Akira gasped; he could feel Crow's cock from beneath his suit – Crow was _hard,_ and all for him. “Is this the real reason you hid me from the other Thieves for so long, Joker?”

“I just… I liked the – the thrill of having a secret,” Akira admitted. “Sneaking out to, ah… to fight with you, it felt so good.”

For a moment, Crow's movements slowed down, and he leaned back to look Akira in the eyes.

“…I liked it, too,” he said. His voice was softer now, familiar in a way that if it wasn’t for the Metaverse’s penchant to obfuscate memories, Akira was sure he could have placed a face to the voice. “Honestly, I can’t be angry at you for not telling the Thieves about me because I haven’t told my employers about you, either. I have so many secrets, but Joker… you’re the first secret to be completely _mine_.”

He rolled his hips against Akira's as he spoke, and Akira let out another soft gasp, tipping his head back and groaning. Delighted, Crow tugged off his gauntlets and dropped them to the ground before running his newly-bare hands over Akira’s arms and chest. But he wasn’t content to stop there; now that he was unlikely to scratch something sensitive, he dared to slip his hands lower, teasing Akira from over his jeans before dragging his zipper down. Akira bit back a moan; he hadn’t realized just how worked up he’d already become, but he was desperately hard now, and he flexed his hips upward, pushing against Crow’s hand where he was palming over Akira's cock.

“Always so cool and calm,” Crow said. “How long will it take before you come undone for me, I wonder…?”

_Not long,_ Akira thought helplessly, watching as Crow slid off of his lap and onto the floor, dragging Akira’s pants down with him. Already, Akira missed having Crow in his lap; when they were pressed so close together, any little movement would cause them to grind against one another, and even over their clothes, the friction was addicting. Now, Akira just felt lonely. Almost as soon as he left, however, Crow nudged his hands beneath Akira’s hips, urging him to lift up for a moment so he could drag his underwear down and let it pool around his ankles, too. His cock now free and exposed, Akira couldn't help but whimper; he was _so_ hard, and Crow was so far away, settling in between Akira’s legs and… oh.

_Oh._ He was – he wanted to—

Smirking lasciviously, Crow flicked his tongue across his lips and leaned forward, inching closer, so close Akira could feel his breath hot on his skin…

“W-wait, wait,” Akira said suddenly, and Crow snapped backwards. “Your mask – the nose. It’s… sharp.”

Crow propped his arm up on Akira’s knee, resting his cheek in his hand and fixing Akira with a bored expression. “And?” he asked. “I’m not taking it off. Are you telling me to stop?”

Unwittingly, a whine escaped Akira’s throat.

Crow sighed and made a show of getting to his feet. “Fine,” he said, holding his arms out in a wide, flippant shrug. “Just this once.”

Akira stared at him, comprehension dawning on him only after Crow started to remove a belt from around his thigh – one of his larger belts, probably three inches wide. He held it up appraisingly in front of Akira’s face and, with surprising delicacy, pressed the belt over Akira’s eyes, wrapping it around his head like a makeshift blindfold.

Crow gave the strap a firm tug to make sure it was sitting snug around Akira’s head before he latched the belt in place, and aside from a tiny sliver of light that peeked in over the top of the belt, Akira couldn’t see a thing. He took a deep breath and sighed appreciatively – the belt smelled heavily of leather and sweat and an intoxicating musk that sent blood rushing straight to Akira’s cock.

He heard Crow chuckle. There was a soft rustling noise, and then Akira felt lips against his ear and the soft bump of Crow’s real nose against his hair.

“If you peek, I’ll bite,” Crow whispered. Akira could hear his smirk.

“What if that’s what I want?” Akira quipped, and Crow laughed again.

“Ask nicely, and we’ll see.”

Then Crow pulled away, and Akira was left alone on the bench, sitting stiff and still, his legs brazenly parted for Crow. His heart hammered in his chest and he could feel his pulse in his throat; restlessly, he took off one glove, then the other, and threw them in the same direction as his discarded jacket, not that it helped to soothe the anticipation coiling in his gut. Was it Mementos that made him feel this way? Yes, surely it was the stagnant air that made his lungs burn with every breath, the haunting atmosphere that made his hair stand on end, the omnipresent shadows that left him with the feeling of being… watched.

Akira was couldn’t tell how much time had passed since Crow blindfolded him – for all he knew, time had stopped completely. What’s worse was that Akira couldn’t even guess what Crow was up to; all he heard was the vague sound of movement, and it made Akira shiver to know that Crow was somewhere, probably somewhere close, simply waiting.

He flinched when he felt a hand on his knee, and Crow let out a short laugh. “This is a good look for you, Joker,” he said, curling his fingers around Akira’s knee and giving him a quick, firm squeeze. “Blind. Helpless. I like it.”

Crow knelt down, pressing his hands against Akira’s thighs and sliding them along towards his crotch, while Akira lifted a hand to Crow's head. Without the mask, Akira realized Crow’s hair was fairly long – chin-length at least – and so, so soft. When he ran his hand through the silky strands, wrapping a tuft around his fingers and tugging gently, he heard Crow try to hide a soft gasp, and it made heat bloom in Akira's chest.

Then Akira felt Crow’s tongue, warm and wet, press against the head of his cock. Akira sucked in a sharp breath, his grip tightening and unconsciously pulling Crow closer until he parted his lips, opening his mouth to take Akira’s dick.

Akira bit down hard on his lip to keep from groaning. He wanted to slap a hand over his mouth, but he was too afraid to put his hands anywhere near his head, worried that Crow would bail the second he thought Akira was planning on removing his blindfold. Instead, he held onto Crow like a lifeline, shoving his hips against the seat to keep from squirming. Crow licked around him, his tongue swirling over the head of his cock and teasing at the slit, swallowing down salty beads of pre-come and sending tremors of pleasure racing through Akira’s limbs.

It was – so much. Too much, and not enough all at once. Akira opened his eyes, blinking at the dark leather that obscured his vision, and closed them again. He wanted to watch so desperately that his mind began to supply images of what Crow must have looked like right now: kneeling at Akira’s feet, lips wrapped tightly around the width of Akira’s cock, his eyes closed in concentration – or maybe not; maybe he kept his eyes open, trained on Akira, watching to see his reactions. Akira tried to imagine what _he_ must have looked like, too; with no jacket, his vest halfway unbuttoned and lying askew across his chest, and a belt wrapped around his head, he must have been a truly depraved sight.

Akira's head went fuzzy, each sensation new and newly overwhelming as Crow brought him to greater heights of bliss with every stroke of his hand, mouth, _tongue_. He wanted to lose his inhibitions in the press of Crow's body against his, he wanted to melt into Crow's mouth – selfishly, he wanted everything Crow could give him.

Suddenly, Crow pulled back – Akira huffed at the loss of contact – and wrapped his hand around the base of Akira’s dick. “Surprisingly quiet all of a sudden, aren’t you Joker?” he asked. Akira thought he was trying to sound casual, though his breathlessness betrayed him. “If I had known sucking your cock was all it took to shut you up, I would have done it sooner,” he added, dragging his hand slowly up Akira’s length, taunting him.

“If you have time to run your mouth this much,” Akira managed to say, tightening his grip on Crow’s head and trying to push him back between his thighs, “then you’re not doing something right.”

Crow’s mouth bumped up against the tip of Akira’s cock, and Akira could feel his lips curl into a smile. “But I’ve never done this before, Joker…” he said, lifting his voice up with faux innocence. “If you don’t tell me what you like, how will I know what to do?”

Before Akira could come up with a retort, Crow sank his mouth back over his cock, taking him down more deeply than he had before and sucking tightly, silencing Akira instantly. He shivered, unable to fully stop the moan that escaped him this time, but if anything, this just spurred Crow to do _more_, to glide his tongue along the bottom of Akira's dick and rub against the sensitive spot near the head, to reach his hands around and roughly squeeze Akira's ass.

If his earlier admission was any indication, Crow was inexperienced, but so was Akira, and it wasn't as though it mattered when Crow’s mouth felt _this_ good; better than it should have, better than Akira wanted it to. It felt nothing at all like Akira’s own hand, slick and hot and _god_, Akira could feel his cock brushing against the back of Crow’s throat…

“Fuck,” he gasped. “Crow, you – you’re gonna make me come…”

Pleasure built in his core, winding him up until he thought he might break, and then Crow relaxed his throat, taking Akira as far as he could with a pleased hum, and Akira felt himself lose control. Sparks of white popped beneath his eyelids, and his hips snapped forward, burying himself to the hilt and spilling hot come down Crow’s throat.

Slowly, Akira opened his eyes, blinking against the cool leather strap that still restricted his vision. He’d never come so intensely in his life, still shivering, shaking with tremors. He felt… blissed-out, his whole body humming with bone-deep satisfaction, the likes of which he'd never felt before.

While Akira was still coming down from his orgasm, Crow pulled off his cock, and Akira heard him spit out onto the ground a little ways away, which brought him somewhat back to reality. He fumbled with his pants and made himself decent, and then Akira could sense Crow hovering over him, unbuckling the belt that had acted as his blindfold. Although the light in Mementos was dim, it still stung Akira’s eyes after he had been in the dark for so long, and he blinked a few times until Crow’s face came into focus.

He had put his mask back on, and on the surface he looked perfectly unfazed, but Akira could see the way his chest rose and fell with heavy breath, his cheeks tinged red, his lips wet and swollen. He fell back into a seat beside Akira and brushed some dust off his knees, the picture of nonchalance, like – what? They were just going to fight more shadows now?

“Well,” Crow began to say, but Akira placed a hand on his thigh and made him look up, mildly surprised. “What is it?” he asked.

“Let me thank you,” Akira said.

Crow pressed his lips together. “There’s no need,” he said.

“I don’t like owing people favors, Crow,” Akira said, flipping himself around until he was straddling Crow, pushing his back against the seat. To Akira's delight, he could see a deep flush on Crow’s cheeks, even underneath his mask.

Still, Crow tried to scowl and brush Akira off. “As we’ve discussed, my suit isn’t as easily shed as yours. Or do you want me to blindfold you again?”

“I don’t think that’s going to be necessary,” Akira said, trailing his hand down along Crow’s chest, and farther still; he kept his eyes glued to Crow’s face and watched his expression soften as Akira pressed his palm flat against the strain of Crow’s cock, which was painfully obvious beneath the fabric of his outfit – it really was incredibly skin-tight.

“I can’t believe you’re already this hard,” Akira murmured, as he curled his hand around the outline of Crow’s dick. His costume had a little give to it, and while Akira wasn’t able to get a full hand around him, he found enough of a hold to start stroking, dragging rough fabric over Crow's sensitive dick. “Did you enjoy getting me off that much?”

“That was for your benefit,” Crow said, fighting to keep his voice steady. “I didn’t enjoy it.”

“_Liar,_” Akira said, punctuated with a sharp suck to Crow’s neck – hard enough, he hoped, to bruise the supple flesh hiding beneath his bodysuit. He found the idea enticing; after all, Crow was basically a stranger to Akira, and Akira to him. Ordinarily, Crow could leave the Metaverse and forget all about Akira… but, Akira thought, if he left Crow with a hickey…

Fuck, he was turning himself on all over again.

“Who’s the quiet one now?” Akira asked when Crow attempted to stifle yet another pleasured gasp. “You don’t have to keep your voice down, you know,” he added. “No one knows we’re here, remember?”

“God,” Crow growled, rolling his head back, his eyes shut tight. “Just shut up and touch me.”

Akira hummed, amused at how quickly Crow had changed his tune. “I wish I _could_ touch you,” he admitted, squeezing Crow a little tighter. “I want to know how wet you are from just thinking about sucking me off.”

It was almost scary how smoothly the filthy words slipped from his tongue. Most frightening of all, he couldn’t tell if he was simply caught up in the moment or if everything he said was _true_…

“Shut up,” Crow moaned, his hips jerking up into Akira’s touch.

“Guess that plan didn’t work quite as well as you thought, huh?” Akira smirked, nuzzling the sliver of bare skin between Crow’s collar and his mask. “You’re gonna have to do a lot better than a blowjob to keep me quiet, Crow.”

“Shut—”

“Or maybe you actually _like_ the sound of my voice? I’ll say whatever you want to hear…”

“Shut up, shut _up_, god, _Joker,_” Crow tightened his grip on Akira’s shoulders, breathing hard and fast, and Akira could feel him come, his cock twitching underneath his suit. Akira let him go and just rubbed him gently, waiting until his hips stopped trembling, and only then did he peel himself off of Crow, offering him a hand.

Crow took his offer and stood up with a slight wobble in his legs. His face was still flushed red, and he looked himself over with a grimace.

“You’d better pray this outfit is clean when I come back next,” Crow said.

“My costume has always turned up perfect on new visits,” Akira commented. “You’ve never gotten bloodied up before?”

“I don’t let the blood get on _me_,” Crow said, with a frightening grin. Then, he ran a hand over the front of his costume, his lip curling up in disgust. “Anyway, I’m not exploring any further like this, so we’re done for the day.”

“Yeah,” Akira said. He felt drowsy, suddenly; not a good look when one was hunting shadows. He'd certainly gathered enough money to buy something nice for Futaba's celebration, too, and besides, he now had… _other things_ to worry about.

At they walked back to the surface, a cool, almost awkward air settled between them. No words came to Akira – what were you even supposed to say in a moment like this? “Thanks for the orgasm, Crow; I think I’d like to kiss you sometime, too”? That seemed… crass, even if it was true; he was more likely to scare Crow off for good with something like that.

Yet when they finally parted ways, “I’ll see you next time, Joker,” was all Crow said, and that was a satisfactory enough answer for Akira. Maybe they were just going to forget about today; maybe things between them would go back to the way they had been. Maybe there wouldn’t be a next time, but… maybe there _would_. Akira wasn’t sure which thought made him more nervous.

It was only once he'd returned to reality that Akira realized he never found out what was in that last chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just to clarify, the skill Crow used on himself during the battle wasn’t Call of Chaos, but Desperation, the skill that boosts his attack but lowers his defense. I like to think of this ability as a step below Call of Chaos – rather than causing you to completely lose your mind, it simply removes your inhibitions for a little while.


	12. Strength Born of Companionship

* * *

  
Akira’s adrenaline rush began to fade as he walked back home from Yongen’s subway station, and he was approaching a full-on emotional crash by the time he arrived at Leblanc. As he trudged upstairs, his legs started to feel heavy with the weight of the day, although it wasn’t a bad weight – rather, he felt drained in a pleasing way, like he had just cast off a heavy burden. Despite his exhaustion, however, he found himself lying in bed that night, wide awake and replaying the day’s events in his mind.

It just felt so _surreal_. His trips to the Metaverse always did; if it weren’t for Morgana, currently snoring softly on the corner of Akira’s futon, and the navigation app on his phone, Akira would be hard pressed to call that world anything more than a vivid dream. Anything that happened _within_ the confines of the Metaverse felt even more illusory, like he had to fight his own brain to hold onto the memories made there.

Idly, Akira trailed a hand down his chest and brushed his fingers over the curve of his hipbone, recalling the warm weight of Crow on his lap. Whatever had happened between them that afternoon was no illusion, but Akira was still surprised at what he had done. In the heat of the moment, primal need had driven away his reservations, yet even now, he felt no regret. Crow was strange, and more than a little dangerous, but Akira had seen him act vulnerable, excited, and even compassionate at times – had seen him act _human_. He and Crow were more alike than they were different, and whatever reason Crow had for performing mental shutdowns and psychotic breaks, he certainly wasn’t acting carelessly.

With a sigh, Akira rolled over from his back onto his side and closed his eyes. He wondered when he would have his next encounter with Crow, anticipating and dreading that moment in equal measures. He wondered if Crow was feeling any of the same conflict Akira was – had he already put the encounter out of his mind? Or was he lying awake, too, struggling with a tangled mix of emotions swirling in his chest? If the opportunity presented itself, would Crow want it to happen again?

Distantly, as the fog of sleep began to overtake him, Akira wondered – would _he_?  


* * *

  
After a surprisingly fitful night of rest, Akira awoke to the bright summer sun already peaking in through his window. He yawned, scratched Morgana behind the ears to wake him, and threw on some presentable clothes so he could move downstairs for breakfast. Before he could even greet Sojiro, however, the front door flew open, and in waltzed Futaba, still as small and frail as Akira remembered but looking a good deal more vibrant today, her eyes bright and alert. She strode through the café and perched on a barstool one spot away from Akira like she’d lived there her whole life, pulled her legs up onto the stool’s cushion, and propped her elbows up on the counter.

“Morning,” she said.

Sojiro could do little more than stare, his mouth agape.

“F-Futaba?” he managed to choke out. “You–?”

“Me,” she replied.

“But…” Sojiro took off his glasses and polished the lenses with his apron, blinking at Futaba like she might have been a hallucination, a trick of the light. “How did you get here?”

“I walked, duh,” Futaba said, and offered him a shrug. She messed with a long lock of her hair, twisting it around her finger. “I wanted a hot breakfast and you’d already left by the time I woke up, sooo…”

“Breakfast,” Sojiro repeated, deciding he could ground himself in a tangible request like that. “Right – okay. You want curry, yeah?”

“Curry!” Futaba repeated, bringing her hands together beneath her chin and smiling. “100% yes.”

“And, uh. What about you?” Sojiro asked, directed at Akira this time.

“Curry sounds great,” he said.

As Sojiro turned his back on them, Futaba shifted slightly in her chair, glancing sideways at Akira. “Mona came and talked to me yesterday,” she said, her voice quiet enough not to reach Sojiro, who had retreated back farther behind the bar.

“That’s right,” Morgana said, his eyes narrowing in a catlike approximation of a smile. “I’m happy to see you out of your room, Futaba.”

“Not much can get me out, but Sojiro’s curry will do it,” Futaba said. “That, and, uh… I wanted to talk to you about. Stuff.”

She didn’t elaborate; quiet as she could be, Sojiro was still too close, and soon he walked back over with a pair of plates, setting one down in front of Futaba and the other in front of Akira.

“Ah, here you go,” he said. He ran a hand over his hair, looking more nervous than Akira had ever seen. “I hope you like it.”

Futaba already had a spoon in her hand, scooping up a bite of curry and rice and immediately stuffing it into her mouth. She closed her eyes and chewed with a look of intense concentration on her face.

“It’s delicious!” she declared, heartily taking to the rest of her meal. On the other side of the counter, Sojiro gave a surprised laugh.

“That’s – that’s great, Futaba. Eat as much as you like.”

He looked from Futaba to Akira, and his eyes clouded over like something was passing through his mind, but he refrained from speaking, seemingly content to watch Futaba eat for now. They ate in silence, and soon Futaba and Akira both had finished their meals. Futaba took a breath like she was about to praise the curry or ask for seconds, only to be interrupted by the sound of Leblanc’s front door.

Akira turned to look and saw that an elderly couple had just arrived, a pair Akira recognized by face if not by name. They were regulars, early birds, always arriving just shortly after the café opened for the day.

“Um…”

Beside Akira, Futaba went rigid, shrinking back in her chair.

“Oh – customers,” Sojiro said. He shut his eyes and shook his head like he was chastising himself. “Hey, could you – take Futaba up to the attic for a while, okay?” he asked Akira. “I don’t want her to get overwhelmed.”

“Got it,” Akira said. He tapped Futaba lightly on the shoulder, and she jolted in place, but she must have heard Sojiro, because she nodded frantically and scrambled from her stool. Morgana leapt down as well, dashing over to the stairs and waiting for her to follow him up and out of sight.

When Akira made to follow Futaba, however, Sojiro called out to him.

“I – hey, kid. Akira.”

Akira paused, turning expectantly to Sojiro.

“You… had something to do with this, didn’t you?”

At first, Akira didn’t answer. It was clear from the look on his face that Sojiro didn’t know what to make of this morning’s events: he seemed pained, almost desperate to know what had happened to cause such a stark change in the girl he called his daughter.

“I’m not sure what you mean,” Akira replied.

“You and your friends… you’re the first people I’ve told about Futaba in a long time, and now she’s left the house for the first time in… god, over a year.” Sojiro sighed, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and placing the other on his hip. “I won’t ask what you did,” he said, “but… thank you.”

He was leaving something unsaid, Akira thought. With how often he tuned in to Leblanc’s television, Sojiro had surely seen the news reports about the Phantom Thieves – must have noticed how similar those changes of heart were to Futaba’s sudden shift in demeanor – but he didn’t say it. Not out loud.

“I think,” Akira said slowly, “you should give yourself more credit. You’ve been Futaba’s rock all this time, you know?”

Sojiro let out a startled noise, his eyes widening as if Akira had pulled back a veil that had been obscuring his vision.

“Ah, Boss!” the elderly woman called out in a jovial, gravelly voice. “Good morning.”

“Another scorcher, already…” the man added, taking a seat beside his wife.

“Oh, I—” Sojiro looked between Akira and his customers, and finally, his expression settled on a half-smile. He waved Akira off and turned back to the bar. “That hot already, huh?” he asked. “Well, it _is_ that time of year…”

Content to leave Sojiro be for now, Akira turned on his heel and retreated back to the attic, where he found Futaba standing in the middle of the room, her arms clasped behind her back.

“Woah,” she said. “This place looks totally different – almost livable.”

“I manage,” Akira said.

“So you’ve been up here since April, huh?” Futaba asked, making her way over to his ramshackle bookshelf. She dropped to the ground and scrounged around in the pile of old junk Akira had left there, things that appeared too significant to be trash. There was no harm in letting her snoop around, he supposed; she had already hacked his phone and could apparently listen in on Leblanc, and given that she knew he was a Phantom Thief, it wasn’t as though he had much else to hide.

“That’s right,” Akira said. He walked over to the far side of the room and grabbed an old wooden chair, taking a seat. “You’ve been listening to me for that long, huh?”

“Just the café,” Futaba clarified. “I gotta know what Sojiro’s up to when I can’t keep an eye on him.” She pulled a few books out of the junk pile, examined them briefly, and then nodded. “Looks like you didn’t throw anything important away. Good.”

“What kind of stuff was the Chief keeping up here, anyway?” Morgana asked.

“Mostly textbooks ‘n stuff,” Futaba said. She pushed off the ground with her hands and popped back up to her feet. “Things from… when my mom was still alive.”

She trailed off, scuffing her heel against the floor.

“Your mom was researching cognitive science, right?” Morgana asked. “Do you remember anything new now that your heart is clear?”

Futaba shrugged, walking wordlessly over to Akira’s sofa and flopping down onto it. She stuffed her hand into her pocket, pulled something out, and extended her hand to Akira, who duly took the item offered to him: a small, perfectly ordinary-looking flash drive.

“You got a computer?” she asked.

“I’ve got this old thing,” Akira said, walking over to his workbench and pulling out the small grey brick of a laptop he’d bought on a whim from the secondhand shop down the street. “It doesn’t connect to the internet, though.”

“That’s fine,” Futaba said. She gestured for him to bring it to her, and he did, taking a seat beside her on the sofa. “Oh wow, this _is_ old,” she noted, taking it from him and lifting it into the air to examine from several angles. “Still…” She found a port for the flash drive and plugged it in. After a tediously long wait, a folder popped up on the screen.

“What’s this?” Morgana asked.

“This is… the only bit of my mom’s research I still have,” Futaba said. “Sometimes she’d write on a laptop at home, and then she’d stick the docs on one of these,” she tapped a finger against the flash drive, “and transfer ‘em later. I think she just never erased this one.”

Futaba double clicked on one document, and a text file popped up onto the screen.

“There are a few docs in here,” she said, “but I think you’ll be particularly interested in _this_ one.”

Scooping Morgana up off the ground and onto his lap so that he, too, could see the laptop screen, Akira began to read.

> Human thought is a powerful force.
> 
> There has long been a strong body of research suggesting that the core structure of a human’s cognition is shared between all the members of our species – that is, we share one collective unconsciousness. With this grant, I intend to investigate my theory and extend it to its logical conclusion: I believe it is entirely possible for humanity’s collective unconscious to be so powerful that it is contained not just within the human mind, but in an entire world of its own.
> 
> It is a world born of our most common, most _human_ traits: our hope, our desires, our despair, and our dreams, and it manifests in a dimension parallel to our own. It is a world we can tap into only during sleep, when our subconscious mind takes over, but perhaps we are limited only by our own ability in this regard.
> 
> Perhaps it would be possible for humans to travel to this world, given the correct resources…

The text cut off abruptly after this sentence, the words devolving into corrupted nonsense. Akira scanned down a few lines until he began to recognize words again:

> …I believe the collective unconscious to be a source of great power that fuels our motivation to succeed. Yet the human mind is not infallible, and it stands to reason that the cognitive world could become distorted through excess desire. Indeed, if an individual’s desires grow too far out of control – out of a lust for power, for instance, or intense greed – their cognition will twist into a smaller, individualized version of the collective unconscious. If this is so, then a person will no doubt begin to exhibit problematic behavior in reality, as well.
> 
> Something must trigger this sudden distortion, and I believe this distortion would serve as the “core” of that cognitive world. Remove the core, and the affected person’s cognitive world should blend back into the collective unconscious, causing further problematic actions to cease.

“This… this is…!” Morgana said, words failing him as he took in all that Wakaba Isshiki had to say.

“Sounds a lot like a Palace, huh?” Akira asked.

“Not just Palaces,” Morgana said. “Mementos, too. The collective unconscious, huh?”

“I never understood what she was talking about,” Futaba said. “Not until… well. Until you took me into my own ‘cognitive world’.”

“That’s understandable,” Morgana said. “It’s not exactly the simplest concept in the world. But I bet you never thought you’d find proof of your mom’s research so close to home, huh?”

“No way,” Futaba said. She laughed a little, but then her expression dimmed, and a far-off look came to her eyes. “Before I asked you guys for help… I think I was close to giving up,” she said softly. “Nothing was getting better. At first I thought I stayed in my room because I wanted to, but the more I think about it? The more I think I was trapped.” She glanced back at Akira. “But then you guys showed up out of nowhere and gave me a way out. I almost can’t believe it.”

“But you still took the first step,” Akira said. He held up his phone. “If you hadn’t contacted me, I never would have known about you.”

“Mhm. It takes a lot of guts to reach out to a stranger like that,” Morgana said. He walked over to Futaba’s side and sat down, nudging her with his tail. “Don’t sell yourself short, Futaba.”

A weak smile crossed Futaba’s face, which quickly contorted into a look of pure determination. She balled her hand up into a fist and smacked it down on the couch’s arm. “I wanna join your team,” she declared. “I want to explore that world… I want to know why my mom’s research was so important that someone killed her to get their hands on it.”

“Killed… is that what you’ve decided?” Morgana asked, and Futaba nodded firmly.

“Yeah. I can remember now; the way mom was acting that day was totally weird,” she said. “And the fact that those suit guys showed up so quickly, saying that she’d destroyed all her research? There’s no way she’d do that – it was her life’s work. Someone took it and killed mom to cover up the theft.”

“It’ll be dangerous,” Akira warned her. “And I’m not just talking about the Metaverse. If we start poking around into your mom’s death…”

“Akira’s right,” Morgana said. “These people have already proven willing to kill an innocent woman. If they find out what we’re doing…”

At this, however, Futaba only shook her head.

“No sweat,” she said. “I know how to cover my tracks. With me on your side, you won’t get caught.”

“Then I’ll ask the others,” Akira said.

“It’s just a formality at this point, though,” Morgana said. “I know everyone will be happy to welcome you to the Phantom Thieves.” He tilted his head to the side, watching Futaba carefully. “But we _are_ a team, y’know. Will you be okay working around so many other people?”

“I think it’s fine,” Futaba said. “It’s weird, but I don’t feel like I have to hide who I am when I’m around you guys. Maybe because I know you’ve already been inside my heart?”

Her inflection made it sound like she was asking a question, to which Akira could only shrug.

“Well, it makes sense to me,” Morgana said. “Not only that, but we were all there when you awakened to your Persona… it doesn’t get much more personal than that.”

“Exactly. Kitty, you get me.”

“Heheh, well – h-hey! I’m not – don’t call me _kitty_—”

While Futaba and Morgana’s conversation devolved into playful bickering, Akira picked up his phone and messaged the Thieves, asking them to come over. Upon hearing that Futaba was interested in joining the Phantom Thieves officially, everyone readily agreed, and before afternoon had arrived, everyone was piled into Leblanc’s attic.

“I’m so happy you’ve decided to join us, Futaba-chan!” Ann said brightly.

“I’m excited, too,” Makoto said. “We’ll have to schedule a trip to Mementos soon; I’m incredibly curious as to what all your Persona can do.”

“Hell yeah!” Ryuji said. “Oh man, remember how you made that huge weapon just appear out of nowhere? I bet you can do all kinds of crazy stuff.”

“Well, don’t set your expectations too high,” Morgana warned. “Remember, we were inside Futaba’s own Palace when that happened. It might have been a special circumstance.”

“All the more reason to take a trip and learn what her Persona is truly capable of,” Yusuke said.

“Yeah,” Futaba said, and although she tried to keep it down, a small, excited grin was starting to creep onto her face. “Get ready; I’m gonna knock your socks off.”

“Oh, but…” Ann suddenly frowned. “I just realized. What about Crow?”

“Crow?” Futaba repeated.

Shit, Akira hadn’t thought of that.

“He’s another Metaverse user,” Akira explained. “Not officially part of the Thieves, but we’ve been exploring Mementos with him.”

This did not seem to be the answer Futaba was looking for, and she stiffened up, her body going tense like an animal preparing for flight.

“What, uh. What’s he like?” she asked.

“He’s a fuckin’ asshole, is what he’s like,” Ryuji muttered.

“He’s not – well. Maybe he _is_ kind of an ass,” Ann conceded.

“He knows a good deal about the Metaverse,” Makoto said. “He’s been visiting it a lot longer than we have.”

“You know those mental shutdowns and psychotic breaks the news keeps talking about?” Morgana asked. “That’s Crow. We think.”

Futaba froze, and the last traces of excitement drained from her face, leaving her looking pale.

“Um,” she squeaked. “What?”

“He’s – it’s okay,” Akira promised. “It’s a temporary alliance. We’re trying to figure out who he’s working for – who’s ordering the mental shutdowns.”

“Yeah. It’s not like we’re helping him or anything – we keep his business and our business totally separate,” Morgana added. “Plus, if we keep an eye on him, it’s harder for him to do his dirty work. Have you noticed? The news hasn’t reported any mental shutdowns recently, huh?”

“That’s true,” Futaba conceded, though she still looked a little uncertain. “So… who is he?” she asked.

“Uh,” Morgana said. “Well…”

“We haven’t revealed our identities to each other,” Akira said.

Squinting at Akira from beneath her glasses, Futaba asked, “You don’t even know who this guy is, you think he’s causing mental shutdowns, and you still let him tag along with Phantom Thieves stuff?”

Akira looked at Morgana and then back at the rest of the Thieves, all of whom wore a similarly sheepish expression on their faces.

“W-well,” Morgana said, “we have a mutual agreement not to spy on each other, so…”

Futaba let out an exasperated sigh. “You guys are waaaay too chill about your privacy – oh, although actually, that reminds me. Gimmie your phone,” she said, and made grabby hands for Akira’s smartphone.

“What for?” Akira asked, moving it just out of reach. Futaba grumbled, struggling fruitlessly against his long arm span.

“I wanna set you guys up with a secure app for chatting,” she said. “Y’know, since _I_ was able to hack in and see your convos just fine and all. Imagine if someone else did it, instead.”

Akira couldn’t deny that she had a point. They’d become complacent when it came to keeping their Phantom Thieves business a secret, and more than once they’d blatantly discussed the details of their heists over text. They could do with some more security.

“That’s smart,” he said. “What kind of app?”

“My own design,” Futaba said. “Better than any other security app on the market, guaranteed.”

“Huh. And you can give it to everyone?”

“I’d need to go grab my laptop and some cables, but yeah.”

“Woah, for real?” Ryuji asked. “Damn, that’s rad.”

“A little more security would be a welcome thing right about now,” Makoto agreed. “Ever since you took care of Medjed, the media can’t seem to stop talking about the Phantom Thieves. I’m a little worried about what that means for us.”

“Oh yeah, apparently Mishima’s stupid fan site or whatever has been doin’ _numbers_,” Ryuji said. “He won’t stop textin’ me about it.”

“Then we’ll need to be extra vigilant against people who might want to take us down,” Morgana said, “_and_ we’ll need to start looking for an extra-good target! Now that the world’s eye is upon us, we don’t want to let our new fans down.”

“That still leaves us with the matter of meeting Crow,” Yusuke said. “Futaba-chan was incredibly shy even around us when we first met… it won’t do to have her freeze up during her inaugural trip to Mementos.”

Futaba scowled. “Don’t talk about me like I’m not right in front of you, Inari.”

“Again with the nicknames?” Yusuke asked, but Makoto cut him off before he could say anything more.

“Oh – I have an idea,” she said. “If you’re nervous about meeting someone new, then why don’t we practice, first?”

“Practice what, meetin’ Crow?” Ryuji asked. “I guess one of us could pretend to be him… I call not it.”

“No! Not – I meant practice meeting a stranger,” Makoto said. She had her phone in her hand, and she fiddled with the touch screen, swiping at something with her thumb. “Haru-chan keeps telling me to invite you all over sometime, and Futaba doesn’t know her, either, so…”

“Mmmm don’t like that. Don’t like any of this,” Futaba said. Pleadingly, she looked to Akira for back-up.

“Crow’s been working with the team for a while,” Akira said. “If you want to join us, you’ll have to meet him eventually. And Haru’s nice; you’ll like her.”

“Ugh… fine,” Futaba muttered. “At least you’ll all be there with me.”

“Well, I’m totally in – I’d love to go visit Haru-chan,” Ann said. “It’ll be nice to do something fun as a group before summer is over, don’t you think?”

“It would be nice to relax properly with you all, I agree,” Yusuke said. “As long as it wouldn’t be a burden to Haru?”

“I just messaged her,” Makoto said. “We’ll have to see – oh?” Barely had she locked her phone than Haru replied, and Makoto smiled down at the text, laughing a little. “That was quick. She’s very excited… she’d like to have us over for lunch. This weekend, maybe?”

“That’s fine with me,” Akira said. “Futaba…?”

“Yes!” Futaba exclaimed in a shrill pitch. She was grinning wildly and vibrating with a sort of manic nervousness. “It’s! Fine! It’s fine. I mean, the sooner we do it, the sooner I can get it out of the way, right?”

“I guess that’s the spirit?” Ryuji said.

With their weekend plans now set, the Thieves spent the rest of the day chatting idly in Akira’s attic, and when it was time to go, Akira accompanied Futaba downstairs to ask Sojiro’s permission to take her to Haru’s for the day. No matter how much she had improved over the past few days, Futaba was still under Sojiro’s care, and Akira didn’t want to push his luck too far. But while Sojiro was still somewhat apprehensive, he was more than happy to let her go.

“Go make a new friend,” Sojiro said. He was smiling, a little misty-eyed behind his spectacles. “And you’ll be there to watch out for her, right?” he asked Akira, who promised he would be.  


* * *

  
A few days later, the Thieves found themselves standing outside the grandest house Akira had ever seen in person. It was the Okumura residence, Makoto had promised them – she’d been as similarly awe-struck when she first visited as they were now – and it was Makoto who dared to knock on the door while the rest of them clustered behind her.

Moments later, surprisingly quickly given the size of the house, the door opened a crack, revealing Haru. She looked particularly comfortable today, wearing a breezy blue collared dress and a familiar sunhat perched on top of her fluffy hair, the same one she’d worn when visiting Leblanc a few weeks back, and when she recognized the group, she brightened immediately.

“Oh, welcome!” she chirped, throwing open the door. “Everyone – hello!”

“Hello, Haru-chan. Thanks for having us today,” Makoto said. She placed a hand on Futaba’s shoulder and nudged her out from behind Akira’s back. “Thanks especially for letting us invite Futaba.”

“Yes, that’s right!” Haru said. She stepped out onto the porch and closed the front door behind her. “Futaba-chan, it’s so nice to meet you.”

“Y-you too,” Futaba said, stiffly dipping her upper torso towards Haru while simultaneously averting her eyes.

Haru took this in stride, smiling serenely and taking a step back to view the whole group again. “Come, this way,” she said, motioning for the others to follow her not into the Okumura estate, but down a path of smooth stone pavers that wound around the side of the house and into an expansive backyard.

It was an impressive sight, the path lined with cultivated hydrangea bushes in full bloom, each plant carefully trimmed to avoid encroaching on the walkway. The whole yard was immaculate, actually, but to Akira, the place looked more like a park than a house; everything from the grass to the shrubs to the placement of the trees had been methodically chosen, to the point that it almost felt unnatural, even if it was beautiful.

“Oh my gosh, Haru, this is all yours?” Ann asked, reaching out to brush her fingers against a cluster of hydrangea blossoms.

Haru giggled, beaming brightly. “That’s right,” she said. “You can control the color by varying the acidity in the soil. Aren’t they lovely?”

“Absolutely stunning,” Yusuke said.

“For real,” Ryuji agreed. “This is fuckin’ incredible.”

“Well, most of the landscaping was handled by my father’s architects,” Haru said, “but they allowed me to have a small area back here to use as I pleased. That’s where we’ll be having lunch today! I arranged something special for you; I hope you’ll enjoy it.”

As she spoke, she brought them at last to a small trellis-covered patio. This was definitely Haru’s domain, Akira could tell immediately: where the rest of the yard was tastefully simple, the area around the patio exploded into color, surrounded as it was by dozens of towering sunflowers. They came up three, four feet off the ground, some stalks tied to posts for stability but just as many standing on their own, their brilliant yellow blooms all turned gently towards the sun, while the ground was covered in a carpet of vividly purple flowers.

“Ah, is that lavender?” Yusuke asked. He closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “It smells divine.”

“Mhm! I’ve got so much that I’ve learned how to make lavender tea, actually,” Haru said. “Now please, please! Come – sit.”

On the patio, they found a lacquered wooden table surrounded by two matching benches, one on each side, with seven sets of bowls and chopsticks placed upon it at regular intervals. Most impressively, someone had set up a long bamboo half-pipe that ran the length of the table, propped up on one end to form a gentle slope and with a small hose situated at the top.

“I thought it would be fun to do nagashi soumen!” Haru explained. “There’s so many of you, and I wasn’t sure what kind of food everyone preferred, but everyone here likes soumen, right?”

“_Dude,_” Ryuji intoned, his jaw all but dropping in surprise.

“Did you set all this up yourself, Haru-chan?” Ann asked.

“Oh, yes – well, sort of. With my family’s connections, it was easy enough to order one of these shoots,” Haru said, running her fingers along the smooth, sanded bamboo flume. “I cooked the noodles myself, but I bought the utensils – oh, and the tsuyu.”

“This looks wonderful,” Makoto said. “I’m excited… I haven’t done this in a long time, not since dad was around, probably.”

“Then let’s get started!” Haru said. She gestured for them to sit down but stepped away from the patio as she did. “If you’ll excuse me for just a moment – the noodles are inside. I’ll just run and get them…”

“Wow… is she even real?” Futaba whispered to Akira, watching as Haru disappeared into her house through a side door. “She’s like, the definition of spoiled sweet.”

“It’s nice to see that money doesn’t corrupt _every_one it touches,” Morgana commented, poking his head out of Akira’s bag. “Still, this is pretty fancy, huh?”

“You’re not gonna see me complaining about it, that’s for sure,” Ann said. She took a seat closest to the top of the bamboo slide. “Mm, I’m already getting hungry…!”

“Hey, no fair!” Ryuji said, immediately taking the seat across from Ann. “Don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing – you’re plannin’ on hogging all the noodles, aren’t you?”

“Uh, you sat down across from me, so what does that make you?”

Everyone else took seats downstream from either Ann or Ryuji, and they had just finished situating themselves Haru returned with a large container full of soumen noodles, which she set down next to the raised end of the bamboo flume.

“Is everyone ready?” Haru asked. As she did, she took the small hose sitting at the top of the slide and flipped a valve, releasing a stream of cool, clear water.

“Ready!” Ann said, her chopsticks poised above the flume.

“Oh, you’d _better_ get ready,” Ryuji said, mimicking Ann’s posture.

“Was this to be some kind of competition?” Yusuke asked. He sat up a little straighter. “I wasn’t aware… I’ll do my best.”

“Psst, Akira,” Morgana whispered, his snout barely poking out of Akira’s bag. “Catch some noodles for me, okay?”

“Can cats even eat soumen?” Futaba asked.

“Everyone,” Makoto said wearily, “please don’t ruin all of Haru’s hard work…”

At this, Haru couldn’t help but laugh. “Aha, it’s not a problem, Mako-chan,” she said. “Okay now, here it comes!”

With that, she scooped up a cluster of soumen with her tongs and set it sliding down the bamboo flume. Ann and Ryuji were in prime positions to steal the noodles out of the flume, yet before either of them could react, Futaba sprang from her spot beside Akira and deftly slipped in beside Ann’s arm, snatching up the noodles for herself.

“H-hey!” Ryuji and Ann cried out, watching in disappointment as their chopsticks snapped up nothing but air.

“Mwehehe,” Futaba taunted, happily dunking her prize into her tsuyu. “You snooze, you lose.”

“Don’t worry,” Haru said, already lining up another set of noodles at the top of the slide. “There’s plenty more.”

From then on, the Thieves took turns fishing for the bundles of soumen that Haru leisurely dropped down the water slide for them. At first, no one said much – they were too busy enjoying their noodles to speak properly – but once they had each eaten a few times, conversation began to flow as freely as the water running down the bamboo in front of them. Even Futaba contributed to the conversation a few times, and all the while, Haru looked happier than Akira had ever seen her. The light of her smile could rival the sun above them.

After what must have been his sixth set of noodles, Ryuji pushed himself back from the table and groaned happily. “Ohh man, this _rocks_,” he said.

“Yeah, thanks so much for having us, Haru-chan!” Ann said. “It’s all super delicious.”

“You’re very welcome,” Haru replied. “I’m just so glad you all could make it before the summer ended!”

“Mm, that’s right,” Yusuke said. “Summer break _is_ nearly over.”

“It really flew by, huh?” Ann asked. “It feels kinda surreal.”

“Well, we had a lotta shit goin’ on!” Ryuji said. “I haven’t even had time to look at my summer work.”

“Wait, really?” Makoto asked, and Ryuji made a noise of immediate regret. “Why didn’t you say so before? We could have scheduled time for that.”

“It sounds like you all were busy,” Haru noted.

“O-oh!” Makoto stammered, suddenly flustered. Her eyes darted around the group and finally landed on Akira, silently begging him for help. “Well, um, you could say we were busy, I suppose…”

“We were helping out Sojiro and Futaba,” Akira said, looking to Futaba. “Right?”

“Is that so?” Haru asked.

“Mhm,” Futaba said. She lowered her eyes to her bowl and took a moment to snag a new bunch of noodles from the slide. “I… wasn’t in a good spot. And Sojiro was trying, but…”

“But sometimes it’s difficult to lean on your parents for help,” Haru finished for her. “I think I understand. I’m happy you had such reliable friends to help you.”

Now a little red in the cheeks, Futaba murmured a quiet thanks and shrank back into her spot beside Akira.

“What about you, Haru-chan?” Makoto asked. “What have you been up to this summer?”

“Oh, this and that,” Haru replied. She hesitated, worrying her lower lip before continuing. “Actually, I’ve spent most of my free time preparing for my wedding.”

“Oh shit,” Ryuji said, slurping up a mouthful of noodles. “I didn’t know you were gettin’ hitched! Congrats!”

“Thank you very much,” Haru said, although her voice lacked Ryuji’s enthusiasm.

“I’m surprised your fiancé didn’t insist on a June wedding,” Makoto said.

“Right? That’s totally classic,” Ann said.

“I suspect he would have, if time weren’t of the essence,” Haru said. “As it is, however, we would have had to wait until next June, so…”

“You need to be married quickly?” Yusuke asked. “Ah, forgive me if that was imprudent; I’m afraid I don’t know much about the topic.”

“No, no,” Haru quickly assured him, “You’re fine. This arrangement is… hm. I guess you could call it a political marriage?”

“Political?” Makoto repeated. “So then, it’s something your father arranged for you?”

“That’s right.”

As she spoke, Haru was smiling, but – just like she had back at Leblanc – she seemed to be hiding something beneath that kind exterior. The brightness Akira had seen on her face earlier began to fade.

“Hey,” Akira said suddenly, “why don’t you take a break, Haru-chan? You need to eat, too.”

Haru’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Oh, um… I suppose you’re right,” she said. “Does someone want to take care of the noodles?”

At this, Akira bumped shoulders with Futaba.

“Think you can handle it?” he asked, a hint of a challenge in his voice.

Futaba narrowed her eyes at him and stood up.

“Please,” she said. “I was born ready.”

Haru relinquished her spot to Futaba, who took a second to look over the noodle-slide before nodding resolutely.

“All right!” she said, slamming a fist into her open palm. “Everyone get ready for noodle overdrive.”

“F-Futaba-chan,” Makoto exclaimed. “Don’t waste the noodles…”

“You guys better not miss any, then!”

With speed and grace Akira didn’t expect from a newly-reformed shut-in, Futaba began to release wave after wave of noodles down the slide, too quick for any one person to catch them all. Yet together, they managed to keep up with Futaba’s onslaught; not a single noodle escaped their grasp. Gasping in delighted surprise, Haru caught one noodle bundle, quickly dipped it into her sauce, and ate it, her eyes lighting up almost immediately.

“Ah, it’s good!” she said. “I’m so happy it turned out well, I was a little worried—”

“Oh, Haru, _there_ you are.”

A stranger’s voice suddenly cut through their conversation, and when Akira turned around to look, he found a young man standing at the edge of the veranda. He had a pinched nose and generally sharp fears, his light brown hair cut short and close to his head, and despite the heat, he was dressed in a full white suit, blazer and all.

“Sugimura-san,” Haru said. She stood immediately, approaching him and giving a light bow. “This is unexpected. To what do I owe the… visit?”

Sugimura stared at the assembled Thieves, disdain radiating off him in waves, but when he turned back to Haru, his lips twisted into an oily smile.

“Haru, dear,” he said, his voice suddenly sickly-sweet to match his cloying smirk, “I’ve been trying to reach you all afternoon. You had me worried sick.”

“I’m terribly sorry to make you worry,” Haru replied, placing one hand over her heart. With the other, she gestured to the table, and to the Thieves. “As you can see, I’ve been hosting company today; I didn’t want to be rude to my guests.”

“I supposed,” Sugimura said, slowly dragging his eyes over everyone around him. “I wonder, however, why you’d want to spend time demeaning yourself by serving such an unruly group of ruffians.”

“They are my _friends,_” Haru insisted. “I may take whatever company I please, thank you.”

“Hm, just so.” Sugimura sighed, and then affected a light, disinterred tone to ask, “I wonder, though, is your father home, Haru? I have something I’d like to discuss with him…”

Haru’s tough façade quickly crumbled, and her expression turned to one of genuine fear. “No, Sugimura-san! Please wait!” she exclaimed, reaching out and grabbing his arm to halt him.

Immediately, Sugimura turned around on her, twisting free of her grip and grabbing _her_ by the arm instead, his hand big enough to enclose her wrist completely.

“Do not raise your hand at me,” he snarled, his voice gone cold with barely-concealed contempt. “I am your _fiancé_ and I will not tolerate this kind of insolence from you.”

He yanked her forward, and Haru cried out, stumbling a few steps closer.

“Hey!”

Immediately, Makoto and Ryuji leapt to their feet. Akira, Yusuke, and Ann stood as well, Akira moving to stand protectively in front of Futaba, but it was Ryuji and Makoto who made it to Haru’s side first, flanking her like a pair of scrawny bodyguards.

“Get your hands off her, you creep,” Makoto snapped.

“Yeah, what the hell makes you think you can just drag her around like that?” Ryuji asked.

Sugimura scoffed and let go of Haru, tossing her arm back with a little more force than was necessary.

“Didn't anyone ever teach you not to meddle in another person’s relationship?” he asked.

“Didn’t anyone ever teach _you_ not to assault your romantic partners?” Makoto shot back.

Rage flashed across Sugimura’s face, but he quickly caught himself and visibly relaxed his whole posture into something less openly aggressive.

“Ah, well… you’re still just children,” he said, his voice pitching up until it reached a level of smug condescension that reminded Akira of how Kamoshida had spoken before his change of heart. “You couldn’t know what it means to be engaged.”

“Oh, fuck off; you’re like two years older than me, tops,” Ryuji said.

Sugimura sniffed dismissively and muttered, “How vulgar,” beneath his breath. He took a step backwards, regarding Haru with a chilly look. “I suppose I’ll leave you to your guests for now,” he said. “We’ll speak about this later, I’m sure.”

“No!” Haru exclaimed, but to no avail this time. Ignoring her plea, Sugimura walked away, and Haru’s arm fell back to her side.

“Haru,” Makoto said softly, placing a comforting hang on Haru's shoulder, but Haru simply shook her head.

“Um, I – if you could just forget about that, I’d really appreciate it,” she said. Her whole body was tense as she fought to remain calm.

“Of course,” Makoto said at once.

“Yeah, yeah,” Ryuji agreed. “No problem. You, uh… you wanna finish up the last of the soumen?”

Haru nodded weakly and followed Makoto back over to the table. The rest of the afternoon was notably subdued, and even though everyone tried their best to cheer Haru up, it was clear the encounter had left her disheartened. Despite the promise they’d made, Akira didn’t think any of them would be forgetting this afternoon anytime soon.

When the sun finally began to set, they said their goodbyes to Haru and trudged back to the train station in relative silence, until Futaba spoke up.

“The people you guys target,” she asked in a low voice, her head tilted down and her hands shoved into her pockets. “Are they… like him? That guy who yelled at Haru?”

“Just like him,” Makoto said, her words spoken with incredible control that belied the fury Akira could see in her eyes.

“I know I said I wanted to join you guys just to learn more about my mom’s research,” Futaba said. “But if you’re planning on punishing more people like him… yeah. I want in on that, too.”

At this, Akira smiled, though he couldn’t say he was surprised. The type of person who stole Wakaba’s research, and the type of person the Phantom Thieves sought to reform – they were no different. It was no wonder that Futaba, who had been working in the shadows as a hacker of justice long before she met the Thieves, would feel the same way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Big thanks to [Tayani](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tayani)/[Mikan_writings](https://twitter.com/mikan_writings) for research assistance with this chapter ♥ 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and for your patience! I did not set out to have a month and a half long gap between chapters 11 and 12, but sometimes life gets in the way. As such, I can't promise when the next chapter will come out, but my hope is to have another published in August. Once my work schedule smooths out for the fall, I should be able to get back into a regular posting schedule. Until then!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! ♥ If you enjoyed it, feel free to come say hello to me on twitter, [@somewhereflying](https://twitter.com/somewhereflying).


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